


What Did You Do, Kiddo?

by professorandre1228



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Sam, Baby Sam Winchester, Brothers, College Sam, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Family, Miscalculation, Multiple Spells Interacting, Mythical Antidote, Poison!, Pre-teen Sam, Preschooler Sam, Protective Dean Winchester, Smart Sam, Teen Sam, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228
Summary: One finger touched the wrong thing, causing it to react. That reaction caused another thing to do something bad.  Then a spell not taken literally enough to reverse the cascade of bad things.  Cas and Dean return from a peaceful shopping trip and find that somehow, Sam has tripped from one effect to the next and has fallen victim once again to Winchester luck.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 164





	1. Something is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something new.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Cas,” Dean smirked over his shoulder as he entered from the garage, “even Sammy said they’re the best and you know he’s not big on greasy burgers. You gotta stay and try one.” He continued down the bunker hallway, arms loaded down with grocery bags, Castiel trailing not far behind, also carrying paper bags full of supplies. 

“I will be honored to eat one of your hamburgers. Especially if Sam says they are very good. He’s not usually one for exaggeration.” Dean chuckled, turning and stepping down into the kitchen. He deposited his bags on the counter, nodding with his head at the empty space on the table for Cas to put what he carried there. 

“Good,” the hunter smiled. “Go find Sam and tell him to get his keister in here to help put these away. He doesn’t get to get out of all the chores around here.” Cas nodded, then headed towards the other door, the one that led into the library area of the bunker. He’d barely gone through the opening when he stopped, head tilted. His brow furrowed. 

“Dean,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on the library. Dean glanced up to see what the angel wanted, and back down, but then did a double take at the intense concentration that was trained on the room where Sam spent the majority of his time in the bunker. The hunter paused with the head of lettuce in his hand, waiting. “Something is wrong.”

Cas’s gravelly voice and those words were enough to have Dean setting the lettuce down quickly, but quietly and hurrying to where the trenchcoated angel had just left in a hurry. He spotted Cas striding quickly through the library with his angel blade in hand. He registered a scattering of books and papers all over one of the tables and an overturned chair, but no Sam. Cas was already in the war room, and heading for the infirmary door under the metal staircase, Dean jogging to catch up when he heard it. 

“What the-?” Dean muttered in confusion. He glanced around again as they reached the infirmary door, Cas reaching to throw it open, but saw nothing else out of place. “Sam?” He said with concern. Cas threw open the door, causing it slam back against the wall and rebound, Cas’s arm coming up to stop its return trip. The now open door no longer muffled the sound they had heard. Both of them stepped boldly into the room, standing side by side, Dean now with his hand raised, gun swinging around. Then they both froze.

There, on the floor of the infirmary, next to an old book, laid open, and a brass bowl with ashes inside, was a small pile of clothing. And tangled in the fabrics, his tiny, pudgy face red and tear-stained, was a baby. As the door banged a second time from Cas’s push back, he began to wail once again, a high-pitched, terror filled tremoring cry that speared through Dean’s memory. Cas took one step towards the infant on the floor, glancing around the room in confusion, but Dean darted around him, sliding his gun back into the back of his jeans, and kneeling down beside the thrashing bundle.

“Hey, hey, come on now,” Dean was crooning softly, reaching with gentle hands to pull the fabric away and lift up the naked, screaming infant. “I got ya. I’m here.”

“Dean, be careful,” Cas admonished him, coming closer, still darting his eyes around for any threats. “Whatever took Sam may have left that there.” Dean was now cradling the baby to his chest, rocking him gently, and reached to pull one of the light blankets from the nearest bed to wrap him in. At the first touch of his chest against the baby, the infant stopped wailing, his face still screwed up with distress and tears streaming down his chubby cheeks, but he was only whimpering now. 

“Cas,” Dean said softly, turning large, astonished eyes towards his friend, “This IS Sam.” The baby whimpered again, drawing his attention back. While he cradled him with one arm, the other finished wrapping the thin blanket around the naked infant, leaving his arms free, then gently brushed the wetness off the cheek not currently pressed against his flannel-covered chest. 

Cas frowned in confusion, then looked down at the spell book and bowl, as well as the pile of clothing, which included boots, some denim, and the same color flannel shirt Sam had been wearing earlier. His brows went up, then he looked at the baby again. 

The no longer crying infant was focused on Dean’s face and with his lack of coordination, he was slapping at Dean’s chest. His eyes were large and expressive and already shifting from the dark blue of most infants to the blue/green/brown that hinted at the fact that this was, in fact, Sam Winchester. 

“Sammy,” Dean said barely above a mumble as he pulled the infant close and wrapped both arms securely around him, leaning his head down to press his lips to Sam’s forehead. “What did you do?” 

*****

“Why would he cast such a drastic spell on himself?” Castiel asked as he sat at the table in the kitchen with the spell book in his hands and watched Dean putting away the groceries with one hand, a sleeping infant in the other. 

Dean pushed the fridge door closed with his hip and kept up the same slow sway he’d used to get Sam to sleep. Sam had exhausted himself wailing before his brother and their angel friend had made it back to the bunker. Dean had no clue how long he had been an infant before they found him, but it could not have been more than a few hours. When they left to drive to the next town over for the healthy food Sam preferred, which Lebanon lacked in selection, it had been about four hours from driving away to them pulling into the garage. Either way, Dean knew that he had to get things done and out of the way before Sam woke up again or he might not have the chance before they spoiled. 

He turned a frustrated look on Castiel. 

“I don’t know. I thought he was over having demon blood in him, since he’s no longer addicted to it and doesn’t have his powers anymore.” He looked down thoughtfully at the cherubic face. “Maybe it’s still been eating at him and he just never said anything about it.” Cas tilted his head.

“Sam still has his powers, Dean.” At that, Dean’s green eyes came up and he stared at Cas with a touch of anger. 

“What? No, he doesn’t.” Cas frowned.

“Yes, they are still there, even in the infant you hold.” The hunter looked down at his younger, now MUCH younger brother in concern. “They are part of him and have been since birth. The demon blood only amplified them until he learned to control them.” 

“But he hasn’t used any of them since he came back from the Cage. That I’ve seen at least.” Cas’s face smoothed out in understanding.

“He is a powerful psychic, but he represses his powers. I believe he is afraid of reverting to the demon blood addict he once was, so he is refusing the temptation.” Dean’s eyebrows went further up as Sam hiccupped in his sleep. 

“He never told me,” Dean replied after a moment. “I guess it really was still eating at him.” He harrumphed before settling down at the table across from Cas. “But to do a spell that does what again?”

“Reverts the caster’s body back to the ‘moment before the poison was introduced’,” The blue-eyed angel replied, laying down the book to use finger quotes. “And I do not see a counter or reversal spell.” 

“I guess that’s about right.” The older brother scrutinized baby Sam. “He looks about 6 months old. That would be right before Azazel infected him. Not that I fully understand why he did it, I get it, I do, but why do it while we were gone? He couldn’t have known I was planning to surprise him with that spiced tofu stuff he likes.” Castiel shrugged.

“Perhaps that’s why he was so distressed, because we arrived later than he had expected.” Cas frowned again as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “But Sam is nothing if not meticulous when he deals with magic. It appears that he did not plan to be turned into an infant, otherwise, he might have undressed or laid himself in a more secure location.” Dean frowned too.

“Huh, that’s true. And with the infirmary door closed, it might have been a while before I found him in there if I’d gone straight from the kitchen to my room. Or maybe we’re overthinking this.” He huffed. “Either way, we need to get some baby supplies until we can figure out how to get him back to Sasquatch size.” He rose slowly as to not jostle him, and headed up the steps into the hallway, Cas following behind. 

“So, we are returning to the store?” Dean turned his head to peer at Cas. 

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have diapers, formula, clothes, butt cream, bottles, any of that stuff.” When Cas made no further reply, Dean faced forward again, rolling his eyes where Cas could not see him do it. From behind him, Cas’s eyes narrowed as though he knew what Dean had done anyway. 

******

This trip was both easier and harder. They were able to go to the local baby department store for the necessities, including a car seat. Dean had to suppress his outrageous concern when he had to let Castiel hold Sam in the car so he could drive. As Cas pointed out, Sam was literally riding with an angel, which was safer than a car seat, but Dean’s baby brother protection protocols were in full force. If Cas had been a proven good driver, he would have trusted him with his car before his little brother, but Dean knew how to be careful and avoid accidents, and Sam surely would be protected in Cas’s arms, so he bit his tongue and went with it. Not that it stopped him from glancing away from the road many times to check on his brother during the drive. Or from reaching across to take Sam from him as soon as the car was parked, even before he’d turned the Impala off. 

They were checking out, their selection enough for now, their items being scanned, when the soft beeping made Sam startle awake. Dean tensed for a moment, having flashbacks of baby Bobby John wailing and apparently summoning any shifter in the area, but his brother only blinked, heaved a breath, then smiled up at Dean. This, of course, made him go soft and he smiled back, pulling Sam up to snuggle against his chest. When he looked up, he blushed to see the cashier was giving him a mushy look, as were several other women who were nearby. 

“I miss that baby smell,” the cashier on the next aisle sighed. That prompted Dean to lean forward, nuzzle the soft baby hair, and take a deep breath, pulling from his memories of the first time his brother had been this little. But that’s where it stopped because the scent he caught wasn’t ‘new baby smell’, it was more like ‘dragged through the sewer’. His face scrunched up and he gagged a little, pulling Sam away from him a bit. The same cashier snorted a little and shook her head. Dean was prepared to glare at her but ended up turning it on the bundle in his hands when Sam began giggling and squirming. 

“Laugh it up now, Sammy,” he scowled at Sam. He leaned close enough to whisper without anyone else hearing. “Because when you ‘grow up’ again, I’m so going to get you for this.” Sam reached up and smacked Dean gently on his cheek and blew a raspberry. There were more snickers around him, and he moved his head away before the smell could gag him again. He could now also feel where his hand was held against Sam’s bottom, the blanket was damp and more solid.

He rolled his eyes, tossing a credit card towards Cas before grabbing a bag of diapers and some wipes from the conveyor belt and heading to the men’s room by the exit. He had just swung the door open when one of the young ladies told him to use the women’s instead as the men’s did not have a changing station. He paused long enough for her check that the women’s restroom was clear before gesturing for him to take the baby inside. 

Cas shook his head as Dean disappeared into the women’s restroom with a little trepidation. 

“I hate to be nosy,” the cashier with the glasses who was scanning the last of their purchases, “but how did you end up with a baby and apparently absolutely no supplies.” She kept peeking at him out of the corner of her eye while she rang up the charges on the card and moved to bag the items. 

“Oh, that’s Dean’s little brother,” Cas said, taking the bags to pile into the cart. The cashier tilted her head.

“Wow, their parents must have had Dean very young.” Cas nodded. “So, he’s watching him while his parents take a vacation or something?”

“They are both dead.” With his head down, signing the credit card receipt, he didn’t see the look of shock on several of the women’s faces. 

“Oh, the poor thing,” One gasped softly. Cas didn’t even look up. 

“They have adjusted.” He returned her pen and the signed receipt, then pushed the buggy to the restroom door where Dean was just coming out, one harm holding Sam, who was now only covered in a diaper, the open bag of diapers and wipes in his other hand. He dropped both into the buggy and glanced back at the women to give them a smile and a wave, but was confused by the looks they gave him. Sweet, sad, and concerned.

“Cas,” he whispered as he directed them outside to the Impala. “What did you say to them?” The angel set to unloading the bags into the backseat of the car, unpackaging the car seat so it could be installed. 

“They asked why we had a baby and no supplies. I told them it was your brother and that your parents were dead.” 

Dean’s mouth fell open, causing Sam to giggle. Of course, it was the truth but with the context, it painted them in a sympathetic light. Dean glanced back at the store, imagining how that could be good or bad for them. And it all only appeared good, and even once Sam was restored, it wasn’t likely they’d return to that store. Finally, he shrugged and handed Sam off to Cas to take over installing the car seat as the instructions appeared to defeat the normally methodical angel. 

Once he finally heard the satisfying click of the seat latching to the base, he beamed a smile over his shoulder at Cas, his brother held like a watermelon. For a moment, a vivid memory of Sam rolling his eyes, but smiling. Then, he rolled his own eyes as he took the drooling infant from his friend and strapped him into the seat. With Sam watching him intently, eyes bright, the big softy that was his badass hunter brother, ripped open some of the colorful toys for him to play with on the drive. He narrowed his eyes when Sam raised his eyebrows at the toys, then took them, almost reluctantly. 

“You’re still in there, aren’t ya?” He asked the infant, which caused Sam to clap both hands and bounce in the seat, the plastic keys on a ring rattling dully. “Was that a ‘yes’ or just baby happiness?” Sam grunted and threw his body back and forth, making his head appear to nod as he rocked strenuously in the straps. Finally, he babbled and threw the keys at Dean, making him blink and sigh. “If you’re still in there, I ain’t getting’ the message yet, little brother. Let’s get you home and see what we can figure out.” Sam grunted again and then settled down. 


	2. Sasquatch to Rugrat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas find out why he did the spell. More Winchester luck.

“So, you can’t like mojo into his head and see if that’s an adult Sammy brain in there?” Dean asked Cas while they unloaded their purchases. He had laid Sam, still in the car seat/carrier, on the concrete floor next to the car, and was grabbing as many bags as he could carry with the other. Cas sighed, then turned to look at the hunter. 

“No, Dean. I can’t read minds unless they are actively praying. I can tell when there is physical damage and repair that, but I cannot see what the neurons firing inside brains are producing as far as thoughts, memories, etcetera.” He turned back to grab the last few bags and sighed again when he heard Dean mumble under his breath behind him. He closed the door just as Dean grabbed the carrier handle and left the garage. 

“Man, if he is still brainiac Sammy inside this rugrat body, maybe we can get him to help turn him back.” He turned his green eyes to look down at the quiet boy, whose wide, hazel eyes were looking around everywhere. Sam grunted up at him, then slapped one hand lightly against the side of the carrier. 

“Babies do not have the coordination or speech abilities that he would need to contribute meaningfully.” When Sam heard Cas say that from behind them, he rolled his head and eyes back as far as he could until he could just see the angel. He began babbling, but Cas only frowned down at him in confusion. Sam squealed in frustration. Both of the men paused to consider his reaction and seemed surprised when he only huffed and subsided. 

“Now, that,” Dean said with a smirk, continuing into the kitchen to make food for them all, “was a very Sammy response. That’s his go to when he tries to say something and thinks you’re not getting it.” He glanced back down at Sam with a mocking smirk. “Bet you’re kinda regretting this now, huh?” Sam only huffed again and turned his head away. 

Cas laid the bags he had carried and moved to stand next to the table, where Dean had placed the carrier while he began putting away the baby food, rice cereal, and other feeding things they had bought. He leaned in close, staring into Sam’s eyes in concentration. Baby Sam returned the look, bringing both hands up to the sides of the angel’s face, as if he were trying to get the being to see past his new size. Dean finished with his task, turning to watch the attempt at communication. He wasn’t sure if he should be laughing or concerned. 

Cas finally pulled back and tilted his head. 

“I cannot ascertain that conclusion. I do not have experience with babies, but he does seem to be trying to communicate and has the mannerisms I have seen in Sam that make me believe that you may be right.” Upon that declaration, Sam clapped again. 

“Sammy,” Dean asked, sitting at the table so he could lean over the carrier, “Is that your ‘yes’?” Sam giggled and jumped excitedly as he clapped again. Dean felt some of the tension leave him and took a deep breath. “What can you do for no?” Sam settled and scrunched up his face as if in thought. Dean stifled a laugh because it really reminded him of the face Sam had made the first time he was an infant when he was straining to poop. His little brother huffed as he stopped the scrunching of his face. “Can’t use that one. You do it too much and we might take it wrong.” Sam scowled at him and huffed again, this time, making Dean laugh. 

“Perhaps a ‘yes’ would be enough for him to help us reverse the spell,” Castiel told them. Sam squealed and tossed his head side to side. 

“Whoa, kiddo,” Dean soothed the twisting boy. “I guess that’s a big ‘no’. You object to us reversing the spell?” They both leaned in and Sam clapped, not smiling this time. “Huh. Well, unless you can find a way to tell us a really good reason for not reversing it, you don’t have much say in the matter.” Sam jerked, as though he had been startled, and instantly began to cry, soft, huffing sobs, tears welling up and then leaking out over his chubby cheeks. His mouth was turned down and his tiny fists were balled up, drawn close into his body. 

Cas pulled back, eyes wide, but Dean was up, quickly unstrapping the tiny body and bringing it to his upper chest so he could comfort him. He began that same light, bouncing sway from earlier, gently rubbing his brother’s bare back and shushing his tears quietly. 

“Come on, now,” Dean said softly, only a slight whine to his tone, “No need to cry about it. We’ll figure it out. Shhhhh. I got ya.” He turned his concerned gaze to Cas, who held up his hands in a helpless shrug. It took a few minutes before Sam’s cries tapered off, Dean completing a circuit of the kitchen, lightly humming ‘Hey, Jude’ as he swayed. Once he had quieted, Dean eased him into a hold where he could see his face, now red and blotchy from the episode. It had worn him out and he was blinking sleepily up at his brother, snuggling in closer, one hand now clutching at the loose edge of Dean’s flannel shirt.

“Not sure what all that was about,” Dean whispered after Sam’s eyes had finally closed and stayed that way as he slept. He gently gripped the handle of the carrier, moving to take it with him, and nodded his head to the remaining bags. “Can you grab those and bring them to my room? I need to get him dressed or at least wrapped up. I never really noticed how chilly it is in the bunker until now.” Cas only nodded, moving to follow the request. 

They were halfway down the hall, when Cas paused. The older hunter had nearly reached the corridor that led to Dean’s room when he registered Cas saying his name quietly. He put the empty carrier down and returned to where Cas was looking at one of the storage room doors, a piece of paper taped to it, the writing on it definitely Sam’s, albeit messy as though hurried. 

‘Danger! Spilled poison. Room sealed by containment spell (hopefully). Do not enter until I can find a way to neutralize it.’ The men exchanged looks and then looked down at Sam in surprise. 

“Dean, this is why he is upset when we talk about reversing what he did.” Dean swallowed and pulled Sam closer, wrapping his other arm around him protectively and kissing his forehead. 

“If this is the ‘poison’ that he meant by using that spell, why didn’t he leave another note warning us about reversing it?” Dean looked at Cas again and they shared a dark look of concern. 

“I am more certain now that he did not intend to be returned to infant form. Maybe the spell was more literal and went for the first ‘poison’, rather than the latest.” The angel tilted his head again, then reached up to lay a hand on the sleeping baby head. “I feel neither demon blood or any other poison.”

“You wouldn’t if the spell did its job right.” Cas pulled his arm back, humming to himself. “If we reverse it, will he turn back into his old sasquatch size with the poison or not?”

“I do not know, but with Winchester luck, I would say with the poison.” Dean turned to lean against the nearest wall, laying his head back. 

“Damn it, Sammy,” he muttered. He took a few shuddering breaths in and out, Cas standing stoically in front of him. “I guess there’s nothing on there about what the poison was, is there?” Cas pulled the paper from the door and looked more closely, turning it over to view both front and back. When he shook his head, Dean banged his own head back in frustration. Sam shifted as it jolted him a little, so Dean stopped himself from repeating it. “Well, that’s our first job then. Find out what was in that a room that could have spilled so we can neutralize it.” Cas nodded.

“And find the counter agent.” When he saw Dean’s questioning look, he elaborated. “The mess he left in the library? I believe he was researching the poison himself and it perhaps was affecting him faster than he expected, so acted swiftly with the first thing he could think of to save his own life. We don’t know how close to death Sam was before he cast this spell. Once we find the way to reverse it, we also need to be ready to remove the poison from his body.”

“Uh, you can just heal him, right?” The angel shifted nervously.

“I cannot guarantee that. If the poison is like the demon blood, I will not be able to remove it.” He looked at Dean apologetically, but the hunter only sighed. 

“Yeah, story of our lives.” 

*****

“Why are you making that face?” Cas finally asked, after watching Dean for the last few minutes. Sam giggled.

“Uh, huh, laughing at me, are you?” Dean finished closing the tabs on the diaper, pulling the snaps on the onesie into place, then tickled his little brother’s tummy gently. “I’ll teach you to laugh at me.” They laughed together for a moment, Cas moving to take the dirty diaper over to the garbage. As he reached his arm over the trashcan to drop it, Dean pointed and almost yelled, “Freeze.” Cas frowned at Dean, then at the diaper in his hand.

“You do not wish me to throw away the soiled diaper?” Dean’s arm rotated and pointed down the hallway. “Not in the living area. Take it out to the refuse barrel in the garage. You know how bad he smells when he has gas as an adult, but I,” he said dramatically, pointing to himself, “remember the stench of piles of baby Sammy poopy diapers. And believe me, babies poop a lot.” Castiel tilted his head. “You may not be put off by bad smells, but I’ll still have to deal with it on a daily basis.”

“Thus, the only logical choice is to store them away from living areas and deal with them en masse?” Dean smiled crookedly.

“Yep, maybe take the barrel out and set it on fire a few days a week. No more stinky diapers.” The older brother lifted the little boy up into a seated position, holding him gently. “Hopefully we can figure all this out before we have to do it too many times.”

Once Cas had exited down the hallway towards the garage, he leaned down to eye level with the baby. 

“Okay, you little stinker,” he teased with a crinkled up nose, “I’m freaking ‘ glad you found a way to keep yourself alive, and me and Cas are pretty damn sure you didn’t mean to start your childhood from scratch, so we’re gonna figure out the poison, figure out the counter agent, figure out how to reverse this spell that took you down so many, many sizes, and then I want a full, do you understand me?” Dean poked the pudgy belly with a finger, “full explanation of how this all happened.” 

Sam grabbed his hand with both of his and brought it up to plant a slobbery baby kiss on his knuckles. When Dean made a disgusted face, Sam babbled, then reached up. The large, hazel eyes sparkled as his brother lifted him up to his chest. Then Dean’s green eyes themselves sparkled when he felt Sam lean into him, spreading his arms as though hugging him. The soft sigh was what finally did Dean in and he closed his eyes. 

He remembered the adoring way Sam had looked up to him the first time he was baby Sammy. Even from such a small person, Dean had felt the ultimate love and trust that his brother gave him and couldn’t help but give it back in equal measures. He was himself sighing in Sam’s hair, rubbing the back of the onesie, when Castiel reappeared in the doorway. The angel stood quietly, watching the brothers, thinking to himself how his ‘family’ had spent so much time creating, then manipulating these men, sometimes putting them at odds with each other, but no matter how much adversity there was, in the end, they were brothers. Family by blood and by choice. And they had opened the door to let him share part of that. 

“Dean,” he finally said, loathe to break the moment. Both heads turned in his direction. “I took the liberty of glancing over the books and papers Sam had left on the table in the library.” He saw both of them narrow their attention down to focus solely on his words. “One was a ledger of the items the Men of Letters stored here. Another was a book of poisons and curses. The rest were along that vein, either being about poisonous compounds and curses, or how to break or nullify them. The spell that caused his age reversal was from such a book.” Dean glanced down at Sam, his eyebrows raised.

“So, you were already on the case, but time ran out, huh?” Sammy babbled, frowned, then clapped his hands. Big brother nodded, turning his smile onto the angel. “He left us a place to start then.” There was a moment of quiet, then both men turned and headed for the library. 


	3. Sammy Left a Clue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's so much to go through, but Sam, as usual, wasn't just thinking of himself.

“I’ve narrowed it down to these items,” Cas remarked, handing over the notepad with the list of the ‘poisons’ that had been stored in that room. Below it were items that were named but no description had been given, thus making them questionable. Dean, one hand still wrapped around his baby brother, who was sitting up on the table in front of him, reached to take the pad. His eyes went up when he saw how long the list was.

“Isn’t there like something we can do to neutralize what’s in the room so we can get a closer look and maybe narrow this down?” Cas shook his head.

“As I understand it, several of these blended make something different and not all the counteragents work together. And any new blend might not work with any of the counteragents. Not to mention that some of the counteragents have ingredients that are extremely hard to find or even extinct.”

“Damn,” Dean whistled. 

“As Sam is currently safe,” Cas continued, “and there is no deadline to meet, it behooves us to be as specific as possible so we know what we are up against.” 

“Sammy, can you maybe narrow it down?” The baby looked at him, then nearly toppled forward trying to lean forward to see the notepad. Dean slipped his hand swiftly around his chest, catching him from face planting, then setting him back upright. “Whoa, dude! We already figured out you can’t help with the reading. Just hang on, Mighty Mouse, and I’ll read them to you.” Sam blew a raspberry, causing Dean to throw him a mock glare. 

“Cas, being the awesome friend that he is, has given us the name, description, and list of symptoms for each one. Ready?” Sam babbled, then clapped. 

“Cantarella,” Dean said, pronouncing it all phonetically, hoping Sam was understanding it. “Glass bottle, liquid, colorless and odorless, or glass vial, powder, brown, foul scent. Symptoms, uh, raised blisters, inflammation, nervous agitation, burning of the mouth, dysphagia, nausea, hematemesis, hematuria, dysuria, and ‘engorged genitals’?!” Dean turned an astonished eye towards the angel. “Really?!” Cas spread his hands and nodded, causing Dean to shake his head and turn back to Sam. “Yes? No? Maybe?”

They both looked at Sam. The baby’s face was scrunched up in thought (‘Or bowel distress’, Dean thought) but only grunted, with no other indication to yes or no. 

“Okay, that’s a maybe.” He marked the poison on the paper. “Spelled Sandaracha. Wax sealed, smoky brown glass bottle, grainy, red powder. Symptoms, skin lesions, gastrointestinal discomfort, dizziness, disorientation, liver failure, paralysis, and cardiac failure. Spell used-oh, that’s what they mean by ‘spelled’-Spell used: Katára tis Parálysis.” Dean paused and glanced at Cas. “Greek?”

“I believe so.” Same response from Sam. Dean sighed and marked it as well.

“Hmmm,” Cas hummed. “It may be that he cannot remember what they looked like or just cannot articulate properly. It could have been a combination of poisons.” Sam clapped enthusiastically. When Cas held up a hand, he slowed down and then stopped. “Let’s narrow that down. Yes, to all of those?” Sam clapped again, babbling away. 

“Little man, this is not going to be an easy fix,” Dean muttered. He laid down the paper. “That was only two of the, what, 15, on this list? And if they were in different combinations, how the hell do we tell what they were or come up with an antidote?” Cas tilted his head and folded his hands.

“It would be of great benefit if we could see inside the room to see what bottles were broken…,” he mumbled. Sam began clapping, bouncing in his brother’s gentle hold. The crinkly sound of his diaper emphasized his enthusiasm. Cas and Dean were looking at him in confusion. “Sam, is there a way for us to see into that room? Without going in?” Sam squealed and clapped again. 

“Is it a spell?” Dean asked, turning Sam to face him. The pudgy little body twisted as he grunted. Then he gripped Dean’s face, smushing his cheeks with his baby grip and babbled slowly, like he was trying to force the words from his brain to his mouth that refused to cooperate. When he realized that nothing was coming out as he intended, he huffed. His head bobbing with the lack of strength or coordination, he turned to look towards the infirmary and reached with one hand. Then he turned and gripped Dean’s face again, before turning again to look towards the infirmary. 

“Something in there?” Cas asked, rising to his feet. Sam swiveled to the blue-eyed man stand and babbled again, doing his best to clap without slapping his brother in the face. The older hunter’s face broke into a wide grin. 

“You DID leave us something,” He said as he also stood, pulling Sam onto his hip, and following Cas back into the infirmary. They had not been in there since they had found Sam, so whatever information or trail he had left, still had to be there. 

They stood just inside the entrance, looking around. Dean glanced down at Sam, noticing his arm was reaching out towards the pile of clothes on the floor where he had been found. 

“Something in your clothes, huh?” He handed Sam to the angel, then crouched down to pick up each article of clothing, feeling throughout and then laying each to the side in a neater pile to be taken care of later. The bowl had already been picked up and left on the small table. He laid aside the flannel and the dark green t-shirt, having felt nothing yet. When he reached his brother’s boxer briefs, he was loath to feel them as thoroughly as he had the shirts, so shook them out, seeing nothing fall out. With a flick, he tossed those onto the new pile. 

The jeans, though, were a small treasure trove. Besides the wallet in one back pocket, he found Sam’s cellphone, a small spiral notebook, a paperclip (‘good boy,’ Dean thought), and a spell bag. He laid the wallet on the table next to the bowl after rifling through it for any scraps of notes and not finding any. The paperclip was laid on top of the worn leather. When he rose back to standing, glancing over to where Cas held Sam against his hip, mimicking how Dean had him previously, he held the phone, notebook and spell bag in his hands.

Holding them up, splayed out so they could be easily distinguished, he approached them. 

“Which one, kiddo?” He asked once he was close enough. Sam immediately lunged forward towards the cell phone. Luckily, Cas had a good grip on him and he only flipped over, dangling by his thighs, held tightly by the angel’s arm, before he was righted by Cas’s other arm. Dean had jumped, nearly throwing all of the items to the side to grab Sam, but only barely refrained from it, seeing that Cas had caught him. “A simple point would have been good, Sammy,” he said, catching his breath. He tossed the notebook and spell bag onto the nearby bed, tucked the phone into his own pocket, and then scooped his brother up from his friend. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” 

Sam was wide-eyed from his near fall. Cas’s save had his own infant heart pounding. Dean’s scoop and tuck against his neck, arms holding him securely, had it slowing back down. He leaned into his older brother’s muscular chest and neck and sighed. Dean took his time letting him go from the hug, and Sam’s first act was to turn and reach for Cas, causing both men’s eyebrows to shoot up. Cas blinked but took the baby from his friend, holding him close as he had seen Dean do. Sam repeated the lean and sigh against Cas’s chest and neck, causing Dean to chuckle. 

“I think that’s a ‘thank you’, Cas,” Dean smiled fondly, watching Cas’s features relax, making him look peaceful and happy for the moment. He gently hugged Sam, leaning his cheek down to the top of the infant’s head. They stood like that for a moment, then Dean coughed discreetly, chuckling when Sam turned his head to give him a baby bitch face. “You’re chick-flicking me to death here, Sammy.” He reached to retrieve his brother once Sam rolled his eyes and then turned to reach for him again. Cas let him go, a perplexed smile still on his face. 

Returning to the library table, Dean pulled out Sam’s cellphone and began looking through the contents. There were a lot of contacts, most of them the same as some on Dean’s own phone, but few apps. Dean scrunched his face as he thought about all the games he had on his but Sam’s only had a notes app, a news app, and a coding app downloaded. His baby brother leaned back against his chest, watching him swipe through them. When Dean’s finger hovered over the photos app, Sam squealed and grabbed at the phone. Dean’s eyebrow went up.

“Huh, I guess this is what you want to show us?” When baby Sam babbled and slapped at the screen, he pulled it out of his reach. “Okay, let me drive this thing.” He tapped and the screen was filled with thumbnails. The newest ones were at the top, the last one showing a thumbnail of Sam talking to the screen and it had a play button. “Left us a video message.” He waited until Cas leaned around so they could all see the screen before he pressed the button in the center. 

“Okay, uh, (cough),” the image of grown-up Sam was saying as it started. There was movement as it was obvious that he was on the go. “I don’t have a lot of time, so I hope this isn’t needed. Short answer is (cough) I was cataloging and I guess I brushed this bell on the shelf. It sent out (cough, cough) this loud ringing, which made a lot of the glass bottles nearby shatter. The stuff inside them spilled, none of it (cough, cough) got on me, but I did inhale some vapors. It made me dizzy so I stumbled and (cough, cough) fell against the shelf. And got some of the mixed stuff on my hand.” He held his left hand up to the screen. 

By now, Cas and Dean had figured out that Sam had been rushing around the library and infirmary grabbing things and taking them to what they recognized as the floor space where they found baby Sam. His eyes were becoming bloodshot the more he coughed, and his breath was wheezing as he talked. There were also lesions forming rapidly all over the exposed skin they could see, as well as a yellowish tinge to his skin. There were several times that he appeared to stumble and weave as he rushed back and forth. 

“I washed it off and hurried to try to identify what it was so I could fix it before you guys got back so you wouldn’t walk in and get sick too. But it’s too fast acting. (cough, cough, cough) I don’t have time to identify it. I can feel how close I’m getting to not being able to even stand up or see straight anymore, so I’m doing the only thing I can think of right now.” He stumbled and the world tilted as he almost dropped the phone. “Oh, man, ugh, (cough, cough).” He moaned and they caught the sight of red as he wiped his mouth. Dean frowned down at baby Sam, holding him tighter, then looked back at the video. “If this works like I think it is, it’ll just turn back time on my body to before the poison was introduced and I’ll have time to fix all this before it wears off…”

Dean paused the video and gave a confused look to Sam, then Cas. He saw Cas’ eyes widen as he rushed out of the room. He stood to follow, pulling Sam to his chest as he jogged into the kitchen where the spell book had been left on the table. Cas flipped the pages open and began scanning over the pages until he found what he was looking for. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. When his angel friend sighed and turned towards them slowly, Dean felt his heart fall into his stomach. “What did he mean by ‘wears off’?” Cas’ shoulders slumped, his blue eyes sadly taking in baby Sam, then turning to focus on Dean.

“There was a note in the margin that I dismissed before,” he said quietly. “It indicated that effects varied and indicated an indices at the back of the book.” Dean swallowed, blinking down at his suspiciously quiet baby brother. 

“Effects varied?” He looked back up at Cas.

“The indices indicated that the further back in time the body was taken, the shorter the time was before the spell would wear off and the caster was reverted back to post-poison state.” Dean’s eyes widened. He took a step back.

“How much?” He rasped out. When Cas tilted his head, Dean steadied himself. “How much time do we have to find the antidote or counteragent or whatever?” 

“According to the book, going back a few days lasts a year. Going back a few years lasts a few months.” 

“So going back three decades…” His voice nearly gave out. Cas held up his hands helplessly.

“I’d estimate a week, maybe 2 at the most.” The angel reached out to run gently over Sam’s soft baby hair. Dean blinked back sudden shininess in his eyes before taking a deep breath. 

“I guess we better get busy then.” Cas met the determined gaze, nodding. They moved over to sit at the table, Dean still cradling his brother to his chest. “Let’s hope there’s more help on the rest of the video.” He pressed to resume.

“If not,” Sam’s image continued. “I left another spell bookmarked in (cough, cough, cough)…” he doubled over coughing, then wiped the blood from his lips again, sucked in a wheezing breath, and moved to slide down to the floor next to the bed in the infirmary. “Sorry, it’s bookmarked in the compendium I left (wheeze) at the end of the (wheeze) library table. I also (wheeze) took pictures of the remains (cough, cough, cough) from the spill. Maybe those (cough, wheeze) can help later.” He wheezed again and gave a sad smile to the camera. “Okay, here goes (wheeze) nothing (wheeze).” The screen went still as he apparently cut off the video to do the spell. 

“Dean,” Cas said, breaking the sudden silence of the room. The older hunter took a few deep breaths, leaning his face down over Sam’s head. A tear slipped down and he laid the phone on the table to reach up and wipe it quickly away. 

“Yeah, Cas. I know.” He finally replied, looking at the phone again, not able to meet those blue eyes. 

“We would have come home to a plague corpse,” Cas started. When Dean looked up angrily, Cas held up a hand to stop him. “He could have been contagious and we wouldn’t have known until it was too late if he hadn’t done the spell. He did what he had to do to protect you.”

“He was protecting us,” Dean muttered. “Probably more than he was trying to save his own life.” The angel nodded. They sat for a few more moments in silence, then Sam squealed and reached for the phone again. “Yeah, I get it. Suck it up and get on with it.” He smirked at Sam, kissing his forehead, then swiped through further through the photos. 

There were five pictures that followed the video, all of them from different angles in the storeroom. All of them showed shelves, broken bottles, different colored liquids and powders, some mixed in the spill, some not. There were partial labels and the last photo also showed what appeared to be an opaque vapor cloud drifting up from the spillage. 

“Way to go, little brother. Guess this should at least give us a start to what to rule out and what to concentrate on.” When Sam gurgled up at him with a smile, Dean figured it was Sam’s trust and faith in him that kept his brother from giving up. He heaved to his feet, tucking Sam into his side. “I’m going to start some coffee and get Sammy something to eat because I’m not stopping until I get my brother back.”

“We,” Cas said. When Dean tilted his head in question, Cas stood tall. “Until we get your brother back.” Dean broke into a grateful smile as he clapped his free hand onto the angel’s shoulder. Sam babbled and clapped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having surgery Monday, and I will not post or write while under heavy pain meds (my less sane side comes out) so next chapter may be more than a week. I have so much planned for Team Free Will in this story.


	4. Baby Sam Gets an Upgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is ever easy for Team Free Will. Complications lead to having to make some changes.

When Dean felt himself yawn once again, he shook his head, reaching for his coffee mug. Which was empty. With a sigh, he sat up from where he had been hunched over the latest book in their search, then stretched. 

“How does Sammy do this all the time?” he muttered more to himself than anything. As his hands gripped over his head at the furthest reach, his finely tuned ‘Sammy Sense’ caught the twitch of discomfort from the carrier where his baby brother had fallen asleep a few hours ago. As he turned to get a closer look, the little, pudgy face scrunched up, corners of his mouth turned down. The fisted hands shook as his limbs drew up closer to his body. “Sammy?” 

Cas looked up from the hefty tome he’d been reading at the concerned tone. His eyes shot from his friend’s face before following the gaze down to the infant in the carrier. When he saw the first bead of blood begin to slide down from the tiny nostril, both of them leapt to their feet. 

The baby began to whine, then whimper. Dean immediately felt him all over and threw an alarmed look to the angel. He lifted his brother up and tried to wake him. When Sammy only shook, Cas came around the table to lay a hand upon his head. 

“Sammy!” Dean cried, as the baby’s eyes opened, only to roll back and his tiny body stiffened, then shook as it began to seize. “Cas!” His breathing began to race along with his heart, even as baby Sam stopped breathing. 

Castiel’s eyes went wide, his hand jerking back for a moment. When Dean’s terrified eyes lit on him, he took in a deep breath, then gave an apologetic look before laying his hand once again upon Sam’s forehead. The glowing pale blue of grace lit up Cas’ eyes as it flowed from his hand into the baby. Dean had to turn his head as it grew brighter, even as he fought to not snatch his brother away from the healing touch. Once the light had died down, he realized that Sam was no longer seizing and had relaxed in his arms, breathing, sleeping normally. 

“Cas?” His voice was very quiet and he had to swallow to continue. “What just happened?” The angel tilted his head as he focused on the now quiet infant. 

“We are running out of time,” he finally replied, pulling his hand back. He watched as Dean pulled Sam to his chest and snuggled him carefully and guided his friend back to his seat from where he wavered on his feet. “We must do the spell Sam had bookmarked before he wakes up again.” Dean’s eyes, wide and fearful, shot up to stare at him.

“Why? What was that? What did you do?” Cas sighed, reaching for the book and flipping to the page with the yellow Post-It note sticking up from it. 

“The spell that made Sam like this,” he gestured at Dean’s bundle in his arms, “was not meant to take so many years off. It was meant specifically to allow the caster to retain his memories while turning back time so he could save himself. However,” he was now scanning the page as he spoke, “it did not take into account the caster being turned back into an infant.” He glanced up, causing Dean to scrunch his face in thought. “Sam’s adult mind has been squished into the infant brain pan.” When the older brother’s eyes widened, he knew Dean had caught up. 

“As he continues and makes new memories, his brain will continue to create new folds, new pathways. Growing, as it were.” Cas was now moving around the room and picking up other books and ingredients as he continued to explain. “Literally, the more he’s aware of-.”

“The faster his head will explode…,” Dean’s interruption was full of horror, making Cas wince. 

“In a manner of speaking.” He gestured with his head as he grabbed what he had gathered, heading into the infirmary. “He would at the very least have permanent brain damage.” Dean carefully followed, walking as though in a bad dream. “I took the liberty of removing the latest memories, thus returning his brain to a previous state. That stopped what was happening…,” He paused, leaning over the brass bowl that Sam had used earlier, and turned a concerned eye towards Dean. “However, there’s no way to accurately control the memories being removed. As far as I can tell, he will not remember anything beyond the two of you finding the bunker.”

Dean blinked hard. How many months ago had that been? How many conversations had they had between then and now? 

“Okay,” he finally said, “So, we just have to keep doing that? Removing his memories until we find the antidote?” Cas’s shoulders slumped. 

“That solution is not feasible.” He shook his head, reaching to clean the brass bowl before adding the new ingredients. “We have maybe a month before that spell reverts and if we do not find the right antidote, he will die. If I continue to erase him memories until then to keep him alive, there is no telling what portion of his memories, or even what makes Sam ‘Sam’ will be lost.” Dean felt his heart stutter again and brushed his lips against the crown of his baby brother’s head. 

“And that spell he bookmarked? How does that help?” He had eased closer and was looking around Cas’s shoulder at everything laid out, unable to read the language the spell was written in. 

“The spell pushes the being it is cast upon forward by 4 years. He will grow up quickly, hopefully giving his brain the room needed to continue with new memories.” Cas had finished cleaning it and was now shredding ingredients. 

“And why didn’t we try that before now?” When the angel’s shoulders stiffened and he went quiet, Dean growled. “Spill it, Cas. This is Sam we’re talking about here.” 

“Dean,” he finally sighed, moving forward with adding things to the bowl, “This spell was created around the 6th or 7th century. It was used by slave owners to make their slaves’ children older faster so they could be sold or put into use without having to waste time or money raising an infant or toddler. The spell continues aging the target four years every 15 solar cycles.” Dean’s eyes went up and then back down to watching Cas, the question evident in the brilliant green. 

“About every two weeks. And?” The angel cut his eyes over to him but didn’t pause. 

“It was created with a key word that could be spoken once the target had reached the age intended. That would de-activate the aging.” Before Dean could do more than open his mouth, he held up one hand. “But the key word was a closely guarded secret that only the spell broker had access to. They would be paid to de-activate the spell. But the target would never remember the word so it never got out. It was very lucrative for the spell brokers.” He paused now and turned to look at Dean, then down at baby Sam. “The key word was lost when Mount Vesuvius erupted.” 

Dean’s face drained and he felt a bit off kilter. Cas reached out to steady him.

“Let me get this straight,” the hunter finally squeaked. “Our options are to either let Sammy stay a baby and keep erasing his memories while we look for the antidote and pray we find it in time and that he doesn’t come out of it with brain damage. Or to cast this spell to speed up his growth to four years every two weeks or so, and still look for the antidote and pray we find it in time. And try to find the keyword to de-activate the spell before gets so old he just turns into dust.”

“Not exactly.” Dean leaned heavily back against the bed where Sam’s clothes still lay. He ran his free hand over his face. Cas stared at him intently. “If he ages to his proper age, the first spell is automatically reversed, and the poison will finish killing him before he becomes old enough to need the keyword.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Dean muttered. 

“There is one possibility,” Cas said softly, rubbing his hands to grind some seed up as it dropped into the bowl. Dean’s face turned to him on a tilt, almost daring him to add any more bad news on top of it all. “If we use the spell to speed up his age, it might counteract the first spell’s time component, giving us more time to find the antidote. There are notes in the margins to indicate that it possibly counters against the negative effects of de-aging curses.” The hunter sighed and nodded.

“So, Sammy’s just sleeping right now, right?” Cas raised an eyebrow at the change in line of questioning. 

“Yes, after the memory erasure, I put him into a deep sleep to give us more time before the formation of new memories would force us to act again.” Dean nodded again, running a soothing hand over the infant’s cheek and shoulder.

“Okay, it’s our best bet, right now. Once we get this cast, I’ll call Garth and get him and Kevin on helping us research the keyword and the antidote. The tablets will have to wait.” 

There was a silent, shared gaze, then both turned to look down at the baby in Dean’s arms. A final nod and Cas gestured for him to bring him closer. Cas poured an oil into the bowl, used a twig to stir it, then used the end of the twig to draw a symbol on Sam’s forehead. With a final nod from Dean, Cas dropped a match into the bowl and intoned the spell. It was only a second before contents of the bowl and the symbol on the baby’s forehead began to glow greenish. Dean felt Sam begin to move in his arms. He turned to lay him down on the bed, but still had his armed wrapped around his brother, unwilling to let him go completely. 

The green glow expanded to encompass the entire baby, causing Dean to blink against the brightness. Cas, on the other hand, continued to stare as the body began to elongate, the hair to lengthen and curl and the clothing to shred into scraps. He had never seen a child grow this quickly but, nonetheless, it was amazing. 

Once the glow died down, Dean turned to face where his arm no longer held an infant. There lay a four year old boy, nearly naked, except the shredded scraps that had been the diaper and onesie. Instead of pulling his arm out from under his brother, he moved to lay on the bed next to him, snuggling the familiar form against his much larger body. Cas reached over him gently and touched the boy’s forehead. 

Long eyelashes fluttered, then revealed the mixed hazel that Dean had grown up with, in this instance looking like a summer sky after rain had washed away the road dust. The still chubby cheeks bubbled up when Sam spotted his brother and he broke into a smile.

“Dean!” The boy cried and threw his arms around his older brother. Dean hugged him back, tears building up behind his eyes. 

“Sammy.” 

“Um, Dean?” Sammy asked after a moment of hugging. He leaned back, away from his brother and looked around, then down at himself. “Why am I so little?” Dean rubbed a hand over his face to swipe away the unshed tears and huffed a laugh before rolling over onto his back. “And naked?!”

“Not so funny story, actually.” He glanced over, seeing Sam’s eyebrow come up in question as he scrabbled to pull the sheet over his nakedness. Sam had turned his head, seeing Cas standing nearby, and blushed. Dean snorted another laugh as he remembered how little Sammy used to blush all the way down his chest, this time being no different. And there came the baby bitchface he remembered so well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! One more chapter before surgery tommorrow! Since I'm not allowed to do anything physicial, this is eating away at me with more chapters.


	5. Little Big Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From infant to preschool years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surgery went well. Almost back to "normal", whatever that is. Should have another chapter or two this weekend. Since I'm restricted from pushing, pulling, or lifting for a few months, I'm limited to typing. LOL. Guess you guys get more content as I can't just do nothing.

“Okay, I got it,” little Sammy grumped, pulling the very loose t-shirt over his head and threading his arms through the holes. As it was one of Dean’s, one of the ones he had outgrown but hadn’t tossed because it was Led Zeppelin, it was still massively large on the tiny boy. Dean backed up, hands coming up, smirking at the memory of little Sammy’s stubbornness. Having had Sam as a baby for a day or so, he’d already gotten used to taking care of his kid brother like he had once upon a time. Having Sam now walking and talking, albeit in a still small for age four body, would take a little backtracking.

“We’ll have to head to the store again,” Dean started, then when Cas coughed, subtly reminding him that questions would be asked if he walked in with a four year old instead of an infant, he shrugged, “a different store and get you something that’ll fit.” Sam was standing on his bed in his room, with a few storage boxes strategically placed so he could get himself up and down. He looked across at the mirror and tried in vain to pat down the messy curls. 

“But I won’t be this little for long, right?” He pulled the neck of the shirt back up, scowling at how it wouldn’t stay on his shoulders, or if it did, the neckline dipped down to show so much of his chest and stomach. He had protested the duct-taped diapers but Dean had laid it out logically that nothing was scaled down for a little boy and he wasn’t planning to donate one of his pots from the kitchen for him to use as a ‘chamber pot’. Not when they had diapers that still almost fit and could go to the store for stuff that fit better.

“At most, two weeks, Sammy.” Sam huffed and plopped down onto his butt, wincing when the diaper crinkled. 

“It’s Sam,” he muttered. 

“Sam,” Cas spoke hesitantly. “how far back do you remember?” They had asked that question before leaving the infirmary, but Sam had insisted on being brought up to speed on the current problem. 

“Um, honestly, the first night here in the bunker after burying Henry.” His face when he looked up was sad and perplexed. “I mean, it feels like there should be a lot more but there’s just…nothing.” He patted the curls again, glancing between his own image in the mirror and his brother’s and Cas’s faces. 

“I am sorry about that,” Cas said, regret in his eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize,” Dean told him, laying a comforting hand on Cas’s shoulder. “He had to erase the latest memories to keep your big boy brain from killing baby you.” Sam held up a hand in such an adult gesture that Dean could almost see his gigantic, peacemaker brother in the tiny boy. 

“Yeah, I appreciate it, Cas.” The gratitude was evident as he stood up, wobbling as he couldn’t quite find his balance with the new dimensions. Once he was finally up, he took a few steps closer to where the angel stood near the foot of his bed, tripping over the bottom of the over-sized shirt. 

There was a small yell as he tumbled over the foot of the bed and an ‘oof’ as his fall was interrupted by Cas gripping his foot hurriedly. Dean had dived forward, eyes wide open, a louder cry of “Sam!”, but his little brother’s head never touched the concrete floor. Sam felt himself being pulled upwards, the shirt sliding over his head, one hand gripping it before it could fall completely away. The next second, Dean gripped him and pulled him upright, Cas releasing him only once the older hunter had him secure. 

“Well, that sucked,” Sam grumbled, pushing the shirt back into place and blowing his hair from his eyes with a pushed out bottom lip. Dean hugged him for a moment, then took a deep breath and pulled him away from his chest so he could check his little brother out. 

“You okay?” One of Sam’s tiny hands came up to push the hair back that wouldn’t follow the childish blowing. He nodded before turning to the angel.

“Uh, thanks again, Cas. That would have freaking hurt.” Cas merely nodded. Sam ran both tiny hands over his face, pulling his hair back. He was much more coordinated than he had been as an infant, but his movements were still childish due to the limited range that his arms gave him. He glanced up at Dean, then glared. “I’m fine, Dean, but that shopping trip is going to be sooner rather than later. And if this growth spurt thing is going to be every four years, we need to get a few outfits for each age range, if you can remember how big I was during each age.”

“No problem there, little big man,” Dean smirked. Sam was back to his grumpy, adult attitude, so he really was ‘fine’. “If we can’t get you back to Sasquatch size within the next 6-8 weeks, you’ll be big enough to wear your regular clothes, even if you’ll still be a little small in ‘em.” When Cas began to open his mouth to warn Dean that it may still be less than four weeks if the first spell reversed before he hit that growth spurt time, Dean just glanced at him with a small shake of his head that Sam didn’t miss. 

“What?” When Dean just patted his back and didn’t respond, he crossed his arms and glared at his brother. “What aren’t you telling me, Dean? Cas?” 

“What Dean doesn’t want to tell you,” Cas began. Dean sputtered and began to interrupt him, but Sam reached up and put his hand over his brother’s mouth. Cas glanced at them both, eyebrows furrowed, but at Sam’s gesture for him to continue, he hesitantly did. “Is that the original spell you cast will reverse itself within 2-4 weeks and you may still die if we don’t find the antidote to what poisoned you before that happens.”

“But,” Dean pulled his head back away from Sam’s hand, “Cas said a note in the margins of this aging spell said it should counteract the time limit on that first spell so we have more time to find that antidote.”

“As long as we can also find the keyword to turn off the aging spell before you die of old age,” Cas said before Dean could stop him. Dean’s glare, though, was enough to make him realize he had revealed more than he had been meant to. Sam threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. 

“So, either 2-4 weeks before I poof back to my real age and possibly die of poison, or less than a year before I die of old age?” He glanced between both the adult faces, both sad and apologetic, but neither contradicting him. 

“But with all the Men of Letters knowledge here, we’ll find both before I let that happen.” Dean smiled. “And now you’re big enough you can read so we have three sets of eyes. And since you still have that geek brain, it’ll go a lot faster.” Sam rolled his eyes again, but shrugged. 

“Fine, but I need clothes first. And food. I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.” He rubbed his stomach with a grimace. Cas tilted his head. 

“Yes, with the fast growth from infant to toddler, it appears a lot of energy was used. We’ll need to keep you well fed for each growth spurt.” Dean smirked.

“Just like when you grew up the first time, squirt.” Sam gave him the stink eye.

*****

“Actual Nazi necromancers?” Sammy asked from the backseat. Being so small, he still fit into the carseat they had originally purchased, even if it was a little tight. Being a small kid had its advantages in this case. Dean was smiling broadly.

“Yep, the golem is bigger than you…well,” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder at mini-Sam, “bigger than Sasquatch you.” 

“Dean,” Cas admonished him. Dean shrugged.

Sam was plucking at the hem of the new shirt he was wearing as he drank down the last of the smoothie that he’d gotten once he had finished his grilled chicken salad. The t-shirt was purple and had a greyhound on it, reminiscent of the one he had gotten from Goodwill after he had lost almost all of his clothing in the apartment fire that had killed Jess so many years ago. The previous one had a whippet on it, but the greyhound image was nearly the same stance so it had been enough to make Dean smile when he saw it on the rack. Sam had raised an eyebrow as he had pulled it from the bag his brother handed him first. 

All of his new clothes were a few sizes too big for him so he could grow into them during the next growth spurt, but small enough that he wouldn’t trip over them. There was even a small step stool to help him get to the toilets, shower knobs, and sinks on his own that was light enough that he could move it on his own. Sam had been very happy to have the duct-taped diaper tossed after he changed into the new clothes Dean had purchased for him.

Thankfully, they had not run into anyone familiar during the shopping trip and it had gone fairly quickly. Sam had waited in the car with Cas while the older man had grabbed packs of underwear, t-shirts, pants, and shoes in different sizes. There was no need for toys or special food as Sam, though in a smaller body, was still adult Sam inside. He figured he had some kid hormones as he felt energetic and was more easily frustrated and more emotional than he had been as an adult, but that knowledge helped him as he learned to manage them.

As Sam was slurping the last of his strawberry smoothie, Dean’s phone beeped. He tossed it to Cas, who raised an eyebrow, then opened it to read the message that had come in.

“Garth says that Kevin is still afraid to leave the boat, and that he is sorry about Sam but his job is the tablets so he will continue to work on that.” Cas turned a concerned face towards Dean, who didn’t look happy in the least. 

“Freaking kid is just leaving us out to dry, huh?” Sam sighed heavily.

“Dean, we promised him that if he got these trials translated, that we wouldn’t ask him for anything else and that he’d be safe from Crowley.” Dean huffed, opening his mouth to complain. “No, he’s right. His job is the tablets and that’s hard enough. We don’t need to delay his work just because I made a mistake.” Dean huffed again, but closed his mouth, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Besides, we now have three sets of eyes, right?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he yawned broadly and rubbed his eyes tiredly. 

“You need a nap, kiddo,” Dean said in a softer tone. His body relaxed and he was smiling fondly. “You may still think like big Sam but your body says it needs down time.” This time he was able to cut Sam off. “Nope, no arguing. Tired eyes may miss something. We’re almost back and then we’ll get you into your room for a nap. Cas and I will get back into the research while you rest. No arguing.” Sam yawned again and then nodded, blinking slowly. The cup slipped from his hands and was thankfully empty, as it rolled off the seat to the floorboard. “And that better not leave a mess in my car.”

*****

Sam was snuffling into his pillow as Dean pulled the door to his room almost closed. He smiled fondly through the crack at the small boy curled up in the middle of the large bed that used to be too small for his big brother. They had put the bags of clothing along the wall in his room so he could find them when he woke up, as well as set up the ladder so he could get off the bed without falling. The last of the hallway light lay across the back of his head, his chestnut curls shining. Dean leaned on the doorframe a moment, in silent contemplation, snickering and shaking his head once he saw Sam’s hand slide up in his sleep and his thumb make its way to his mouth. It seemed the tiny body remembered being that small and had reverted to some of his old unconscious habits. 

“How is he?” Cas asked when Dean sauntered down the few steps into the library. Dean gave him a half smile, heading to the drink cabinet to pour himself a whiskey before joining the angel at the table.

“Sleeping, sucking his thumb.” He chuckled. “Might just have to tease him about that later. Should have gotten a picture.” He stopped and stared at a blank spot on the wall, his smile disappearing. “I don’t have any pictures of Sam as a kid. Just that one baby picture and a few before he left for college, when we were visiting Bobby.” He shook his head, taking a sip of the whiskey. 

“But you did very well on guessing his sizes without him trying the clothing on,” Cas considered as the Winchester joined him at the table. Dean nodded.

“I raised that kid. I have a full memory album up here,” he said, tapping his temple gently. “I remember all his firsts, how big he was, how he was growing up. And I really, really hope we figure all this out before he hits those first teenage years.” He picked up a book but caught Cas’ questioning head tilt over the top of the book. “Because, Cas, I don’t feel like having to survive him going through puberty again. That was rough enough the first time.” 


	6. Greece, Persia, or Heaven?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy remembers something from one of Bobby's books and remembers that they have a copy in the bunker. Maybe it'll be a step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, only one chapter. Popped a stitch earlier this week and had to go back to heavy pain meds. Just got back to progress status on healing today, so here ya go!

A few hours later found both Dean and Cas looking up as they heard a shuffling in the hallway. The small boy who rounded the corner into the library was busily munching on a large, red apple held by both hands, his eyes looking ahead for any steps or obstacles. The two small steps down gave him pause, but he took them gently, putting one foot down, then the second onto the same step, rinse and repeat. Dean watched him wobble a bit and fought everything in his being to keep from jumping up to sweep him up protectively. With Sam’s hands both holding the apple, he had no way to reach out to steady himself. But Sammy had always been resourceful. And stubborn. 

Sam tucked the apple against his chest with one hand, freeing up the other to hold out to the doorframe and stop his wobble. Once he touched down level with his brother and the angel, his hazel eyes lit up with triumph and he smiled widely, mostly to himself, shining those deep dimples. Dean let the tension drain from him as he returned Sam’s bright smile and felt similar tension ease from where Cas had also been poised to leap forward. The older brother nodded, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees.

“Good job, Snarfer,” he chuckled. Sam stopped halfway between the stairs and the library table, tilting his head, smile fading from triumph into fond memory.

“Dean, you haven’t called me that in a long time.” His brother hung his head, still chuckling. 

“Yeah, but fits you even better now.” He peeked at his brother with a half-raised head, chortling when Sam snorted, then came the rest of the way. 

“’Snarfer’?” Cas asked. Dean was reaching to help little Sammy up into the chair next to him, where he had placed some books to help him see over the edge of the table, when he smirked and wagged his chin towards the laptop.

“Look it up and tell me it ain’t Sammy.” Cas furrowed his brow, but bent to the task. Upon using ‘the Google’, as Dean had called it once before, he found an entry for a cartoon character. Under an entry for ‘[List of Thundercats Characters’](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_ThunderCats_characters), he found a description that confirmed Dean’s assessment. 

“Snarfer is a young and excitable Snarf who is Snarf's young nephew.” Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean, who finished situating Sam before gesturing for Cas to keep reading. “He was thought lost when Thundera exploded but was one of the surviving Snarfs that made it to the Planet of Snarfs. Slightly more aggressive than his uncle, Snarfer is a keen mechanic and pilot in his own right, having been educated at "Snarf College" while majoring in Snarf-Studies (Snarf once said he was a "college boy"). He does tend to babble when over-excited, but at times he can be just as level-headed as Tygra. Though smaller than Snarf, he does not allow that to get in his way when he wants to help friends.”

“For reference, ‘Thundercats’ was a cartoon Sammy and I grew up watching whenever we could. Snarf was the pet of the leader of the Thundercats. Snarfs were the perfect companions because they could never be bad, unless they were possessed by some bastard.” Dean watched Cas’ expression move from confused to thoughtful. “Now, I’m more the mechanic and ‘pilot’ if you mean driver, but that’s Sammy’s personality. Smart, loyal, brave, exuberant, helpful. And cute a button.” He reached to tweak the tip of Sam’s nose, which scrunched up as the tiny hand shoved the larger one away from his face. “Although I don’t think Snarfer did anything to compare to baby bitchface.” Dean now guffawed, seeing Cas’ eyes light up in understanding and Sam’s look of exasperation.

“Yes, I see,” the angel smiled. “But if he does not appreciate being called Snarfer, I think it would be best to obey his wishes.” He shared an understanding glance with Sam, who stuck his tongue out at Dean before taking another large bite of his apple. 

“Cas, if I quit teasing Sam with all the nicknames I give him, I’d have nothing to live for.” He was so deadpan, that Cas was startled until Dean broke with a laugh, even making Sam shake his shaggy head and laugh around the mouthful of apple. It warmed the angel’s heart to see, after everything they had been through, this tiny thing could make them all smile and be carefree, distracting them from another looming ‘literal’ deadline. They all chuckled for a bit before settling into their task. 

“So, what have you got so far?” Sam asked, using his sleeve to wipe a drip of apple juice from his chin. He leaned forward over the notes that Dean was passing to him. 

“What you see is what we have,” his brother sighed, grabbing one of the open books in front of him while Sam scanned over their notes. “Any questions, and we’ll do our best to fill in what we can, but there was some stuff that went with the memory sweep.” When Cas opened his mouth to apologize again, Dean held up one hand, with a sad look at his friend. “Nope, no apologizing. Had to be done so now we work with what we have.” Cas nodded, closing his mouth, then bent his head back to the book he had laid to the side when Sam had walked in. 

“You said there was a video on my phone…” Sam looked up, watching both his brother and his friend blink. “Earlier, in the car, you were explaining the clues I left…” Dean slapped himself in the face, standing quickly. 

“Shit, kinda forgot that you wouldn’t remember that part of it.” He jogged out of the room to the infirmary, where they had left Sam’s phone when they had done the age-push spell earlier that day. “Sorry, Sammy.” He jogged back, bow legs rolling easily back beside his little brother. He gently laid the phone into the tiny hands. Sam immediately laid down what remained of the apple, carefully away from the books and papers and, after wiping his hands on his pants with a grimace, began flipping through the contents. 

Dean and Cas returned to their books, letting the little boy next to them watch the video, his face scrunched up at the oddity of watching himself do something he couldn’t remember, and they half listened to grown Sam’s sick voice for anything they may have missed. 

Dean’s glance at the confused face little Sammy was making brought up a faded memory of that time he had been chasing his baby brother through the hotel room in a game while Dad was out buying dinner. Sam had slipped on the turn at the wall and had instead slammed his head into the bathroom doorframe, dropping silently. There had been no tears, barely even breathing, as the little boy had laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling blankly, a red mark beginning to darken into a bruise on his temple. Dean had raced to his side, bursting into tears, thinking his brother was dying. Sam had only been three at the time, but Dean had racked his brain on how to help his brother. 

It only took a pause of a half a moment before Dean overcame his terror and laid his hands on the sides of Sam’s head and whisper-wept ‘Sammy’. That touch was what set off Sam’s response as he sucked in a heaving breath, eyes blinking rapidly, swiveling over to his big brother. And Dean’s tears set off Sammy’s. And that was how John found them not long after, huddling on the floor by the bathroom, hugging and crying. He’d dropped the food hurriedly on the table closest to the door, running to drop to his knees next to his boys. It had taken a rapid once over before he found the bruise and surmised the problem, but he remained calm and let the boys calm down, then waited to see if he would get the truth or if they would try to cover for each other.

Dean, being the responsible older brother that he had always been, had immediately poured out the truth and begged for Sam and their dad to forgive him. And little Sammy had begged their dad not to be mad at Dean, holding his brother tightly. John had been proud of both of them, assuring him that he wasn’t angry and that Sam was okay, just got the wind knocked out of him, as well as a good goose egg. Their dad had explained how it was a life lesson, that he didn’t just tell them not to do things to be mean, but to protect them and this had just been life bringing that lesson home. After that, Dean had taken the lesson to heart and did the best he could to listen and obey their dad, mainly to protect his Sammy. Sammy, well, he had always relied on Dean to protect and save him, so had taken a few extra liberties in life.

Dean smirked at himself at the memory, his hearing fading back in as he realized little Sammy was mumbling, mostly to himself, as he flipped through the pictures of the spillage, but some of what he was muttering was important. 

“It was just a myth, right?” the little boy mumbled. He sat the phone down and actually crawled onto the table to look through all the books piled there. Both Dean and Cas’ eyebrows went up as they watched the little boy crawling across the tabletop, Cas reaching out an arm as Sam got a little too close to the edge nearest him, being totally focused on his task. “But I know I saw something about it in that book at Bobby’s.” The boy paused and sat back on his heels, head tilted in thought. “And I remember seeing that book on the shelf here when we first got here…” His little voice dropped off as his voice fell into nearly silent whispers of a one-sided conversation with himself. 

“Uh, Sam?” Dean asked, standing up to follow where the boy was nearing the far end of the table, to be there to catch him if he slipped. “Sammy?” The hazel eyes drifted up to meet his and the shaggy head shook a negative.

“I don’t see that book here, Dean.” He turned and looked past Dean at the shelves. There was a pause as he thought, then he sighed and blushed, reaching his arms up in another familiar gesture. Dean smirked as he lifted the little boy into his arms. “Can you help me see the shelves over there?” When Dean didn’t move for a moment, Sam slapped a hand against his chest, then pointed over to where he wanted to go.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” He turned, following his baby brother’s pointing hand. They reached the shelves, Dean helping Sam to lean forward and read the spines. “What are we looking for? I thought you had already pulled out all the books you thought would help before the age regression.” Sam glanced at him guiltily, then returned to reading the spines.

“There’s this book,” Sam muttered. Dean rolled his eyes when Sam didn’t continue.

“Yeah, I figured it was a book, Sammy.” That little baby bitchface swiveled to glare at him before he huffed and turned away again. 

“Maybe I just wasn’t thinking as clearly before, you know, being sick and…”

“Dying.” Dean provided helpfully. Sam sighed guiltily again.

“Yeah. Well, there was this myth I read about many years ago about this miracle, all-purpose antidote created in the 1st century AD, by this king, Mithridates VI. Most likely created by an alchemist in his kingdom, but it’s credited to Mithridates VI, thus why the antidote is called ‘mithridate’. It was supposed to be so powerful that when the king tried to off himself, no poison would work so he had to have one of his servants stab him to death with a sword.” Sam reached out to tap a book, before shaking his head and moving on to read the spine of the next.

“I have heard of that,” Cas said casually, having gotten up to follow the Winchester brothers to the shelves. “It was rumored in Heaven to be a gift granted by one of the archangels to a seer so they could prevent the future plague from killing everyone in the region.” Dean’s eyebrows went up.

“Then why doesn’t everyone know about it? I mean, everyone would be taking this stuff if it meant you couldn’t be poisoned, right?” Sam and Cas shared a look.

“It was only a rumor that I heard, Dean,” Cas said with a shrug. “As a soldier, such things were not necessary to my job. And as an angel, I couldn’t be injured by poison anyway.” 

“Aha!” Sam smiled as he tried to grab the rather large, dusty tome on the shelf before him. When he grunted in frustration, Dean stepped back, allowing Cas room to pull the book out. Once Sam nodded to confirm it was the correct one, they returned to the table, laying the book in front of Sam’s spot and Dean sat him down again in the chair. Sam blew his bangs up again, finally running a short, chubby arm up to push them back from his eyes, then reverently laid a hand on the cover. 

“From what I read in the copy of this book at Bobby’s,” Sam said as he gently pulled the cover open, hearing the dusty pages slither and the stiff spine creak. Dean smiled at the look of awe on his bookworm brother’s face. “The recipe was found, copied down in King Mithradate the Sixth’s own handwriting and it was taken to Rome, where it was translated into Latin. From there, other ‘great leaders’, like Nero and Marcus Aurileus, had physicians who thought they could ‘improve’ the recipe and it got so diluted that it no longer worked, but by then, no one could find the original recipe.” 

“If it was translated into Latin, what was it originally?” Sam was reverently flipping pages, eyes scanning each one before moving to the next. 

“Well, the King was from Greek and Persian descent…,” Sam started but then looked over at Cas questioningly. “But since the recipe originally came from an archangel-.”

“Rumored.” Cas said with a nervous shift to lean over and look at the book too. 

“Rumored to come from an archangel,” Sam continued, “maybe it was really originally in enochian. I can read Greek and Persian.” When he paused, looking meaningfully at Cas, the angel startled. 

“Oh, and I can read enochian.” He returned Sam’s look with a questioning one of his own, one that Dean didn’t miss, but didn’t feel up to questioning yet. 

“I think we have all bases covered if we can find a copy of the original recipe…and all of the ingredients.” Sam’s voice faded at the end and he cleared his throat as though pretending it had been so quiet because his voice was rough. Which it wasn’t. 

“What about the ingredients?” Dean ran his hands over his face as he sighed. He knew Sam had always been stubborn, but having him in this little body made him want to turn into their dad and demand answers, rather than pull them out like he had always tried to tactfully do. 

“Um,” Sam and Cas shared another unreadable look before the boy went back to flipping pages. “If I remember correctly, there are around 60 ingredients and the amounts have to be precise. But, um, some of them may be extinct.” 

“Of – freaking – course,” Dean muttered, standing and heading towards the kitchen. When both his little brother and angel friend turned to look at him, he waved at them dismissively. “You guys keep looking. I’m going to do my part and make dinner. Let me know when you find it and what I can do to help.” He disappeared, mumbling to himself and Sam and Cas both sighed, returning to scanning the book for the recipe. 


	7. Emotions Run High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out a little more about Sam's method of saving himself, before and after the next 4 year push, and he's not all that comfortable with it. Cas, of course, shares a tidbit of wisdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was a reorganization at work, as well as layoffs. Long, emotional week for me, as well as everyone else affected. I wasn't laid off, but several of those who were, I called 'friend.'

Over dinner, a burger and steak fries for Dean and Cas, and a chicken salad sandwich cut into bite sized portions for little Sammy, they laid out what they had so far. 

“And I’m pretty sure it’s the original,” Sam was saying around mouthfuls of his sandwich. “I mean, yeah, the ingredients and instructions are all in Greek, but the incantation is in Enochian.” Dean’s eyebrow went up as he nodded, popping another fry into his mouth.

“The Enochian is a very old dialect,” Cas said, pausing his burger halfway to his mouth and glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

“It lends credence that it came from an archangel,” Sam replied. Cas nodded once and took a bite, making a soft moan as he chewed. Dean looked up in surprise, glancing at Sam’s reaction. The little boy was struggling not to laugh. 

“And, uh, the, uh,” Dean coughed, wiping his hands on a napkin, “ingredients are doable?” Sam looked to Cas.

“There are two that appear to be extinct,” the angel said after swallowing, wiping a small drip of grease off the corner of his mouth with the napkin Dean handed him. “But there are substitution ingredients that may work in their place.”

“Um, I don’t know if I’m ready to trust Sammy’s life to ‘may work’.” When Cas realized how serious Dean was at that moment, he put down his burger and leaned forward to assure his friend.

“Dean, while I cannot be 100% certain, I have seen both you and Sam pull some extraordinary ‘Hello Mary’s’ in the past and have faith in you both that we can make this work.” Sam snorted, Cas turning to him in confusion.

“Hail Mary, Cas,” Dean coughed to cover his own laugh. “Sports term. Hail Mary, not Hello Mary.” Cas hummed.

“Yes, like the prayer. I had always wondered.” 

“Yes, a prayer to Jesus’ mother, not to God’s baby momma,” Dean said, trying to keep a straight face. Cas tilted his head in confusion, not understand Dean’s mirth and Sam’s sudden look of horror. 

“Cas,” Sam said, throwing a baby bitchface at his brother, “I don’t know how much help I can be on gathering the ingredients but I can translate the instructions while you and Dean get what is needed.” Dean turned his own bitchface onto his baby brother.

“Sam, you may still have that college education in your brain, but you’re barely three feet tall.” Cas shot the older man a look that was silent but an admonishment as Sam crossed his tiny arms across his chest and prepared to let loose a tirade.

“Sam, what your brother means is that he trusts you but doesn’t believe you have adjusted to your current size enough to not over-reach these physical limitations. He doesn’t trust the circumstances and doesn’t want to leave you alone as you would be mostly defenseless if anything happened.” Dean opened his mouth, then closed it and shrugged. Sam dropped his arms and relaxed.

“Okay, I get it,” he said, “but time if of the essence. With the sheer amount of ingredients, complexity of the instructions, and length of the incantation, I could hit the next growth spurt before we get to actually putting it to the test.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Wait, ‘test’?” Sam and Cas shared an equally guilty look. “You actually have proof that this is going to work, right?” He darted his eyes back and forth between them when neither spoke up. “Damn it, Sam. Cas.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you have a real ‘test’ in mind, something that can prove that it’s going to keep Sam from dying once we reverse the de-aging spell.” Both of them looked a little less guilty, and it was Sam who hurried to speak before Cas could do more than open his mouth. 

“Yes, we have a plan,” Sam rushed out, his little boy voice, making him sound all that more suspicious, like he was trying to get out the lie before his friend could buckle and spill the truth. “Once it’s cast, Cas is going to monitor my health. Then we’ll introduce very low levels of poisons that he knows he can fix.”

“NO! Uh, uh, no!” Dean yelled, standing up and clenching his fists. “That’s your solution? Slowly poison yourself to see if you can survive poison? Didn’t that stupidity die out with EVERYONE else who tried it?” Sam climbed up to stand on the table so he’d be face to face with his brother. He stomped his foot and growled. 

“Dean, they didn’t have Cas to heal them if it went wrong.” Dean shot a calculating look at his friend, who had stood, staying to the side, knowing even if Dean got really angry, he’d never intentionally hurt Sam. Dean figured it was more to be there to catch the clumsy kid who was standing close to the edge of the table. “And I trust him. You trust him. Do…do you trust me?” Sam no longer looked angry, more concerned than anything. His little shoulders were hunched over and his head tilted down, his eyes shiny as he chewed his bottom lip. Being that young, his emotions were harder to control, with all the different energy and hormones. 

“Sammy,” his big brother breathed out, taking a quick step to wrap his arms around the little boy who was breaking his heart. He pulled the tiny body against his chest, feeling the warmth that clinging to him. Sammy wrapped his arms around his neck and sniffled. Dean couldn’t tell if he was actually crying, but he wasn’t going to embarrass him by pointing it out. “Of course, I trust you.” Sam ducked his shaggy head, burying his face into Dean’s neck. Dean dropped into the chair he had just vacated, wrapping Sam’s legs around his waist and rocked him gently.

“Sammy,” he muttered, closing his eyes and kissing the shaggy hair. “I know we’ve gone through times where I didn’t trust you and I wasn’t nice about it.” Sammy muttered something into his neck. It didn’t matter what it was, because Dean knew his little brother enough to guess. “We’re past all that. I was wrong, you were wrong, doesn’t matter anymore.” Sammy muttered again and Dean rubbed his back gently. “I trust you, but I don’t trust this miracle antidote. I’ve watched you die too many times. I don’t know if I can stand by while you deliberately taunt Death. Even with Cas standing over you with his healing powers.” The little boy sniffled once more before raising his head.

“I know. But it’s not like I have many options right now,” Sam’s small voice pleaded. Dean leaned back to look down into the ruddy cheeks and full on puppy eyes. There were no escaped tears, just that watery gaze, and he was amazed that he’d managed to hold them back. Dean sighed, kissed his forehead, then glanced over to where the angel still stood, quietly watching them. 

“Time is very limited, Dean,” Cas spoke up, his own blue eyes crinkled in concern. “We don’t exactly have a definite timeframe, and I’m actually taking some advice Gabriel gave me.” Sam and Dean shared a look, then turned their heads to question their friend. “He once told me that while it made no sense, unless Father was directly interfering somewhere, ‘those Winchester boys have some of the oddest luck and the ability to get through the worst of anything, as long as they do it together’.” The brother’s faces relaxed a bit, Sam smiling, a nod of thanks towards Cas. Dean sighed, looked between them again, then back at his little brother. 

“Well, Gabe may have been a dick,” he growled out grudgingly, “but he was pretty insightful on that point. Together?” He asked Sam, eyebrows raised, a small smile making one side of his mouth creep up. Sam’s return smile was blinding, bringing out those sweet dimples that he’d inherited from their father. Sammy turned to look at Cas, who nodded at him, before turning back to his brother. 

“Together.” He threw himself forward to hug Dean once again, gripping tightly. 

“Alright, let’s get started then,” Dean smirked, throwing a grateful look over Sammy’s shaggy head at Cas. “Before I grow a pair of boobs and we start braiding hair.” Sam’s snicker made even Cas smile.

*****

True to how complicated their lives really were, it had taken 17 days to gather all the ingredients, especially since Dean refused to let Sam stay alone anywhere. They had gathered some common and rare poisons as well, as part of the tests to be done. The 15 day mark for Sam’s ‘growth spurt’ had come and gone with no evidence that it was going to happen at all, and they were all a little on edge, worried. The older hunter and the angel had been in the library, reviewing the ingredients list and comparing the items and quantity of each against the recipe, when there had been a hum, then a loud series of thuds. Not quite a crash, but it reminded Dean of that time Sam had fallen down the stairs at Bobby’s when he was little. He immediately sat down the list and turned to race out of the room, Sam’s name already on his lips. Cas was right behind him.

They threw open the door to Sam’s room and froze, Cas bumping into Dean’s back because he didn’t stop fast enough. 

“Hey, Dean,” came the embarrassed laugh from the kid sitting on the floor, contorted like a pretzel, with his now, much too small t-shirt caught under his right arm, somehow wrapped around his left elbow and effectively trapping his arms around his head, with only his hazel eyes and the chestnut hair showing above the material. His bare, white torso was heaving as he caught his breath. He was naked from the waist down, having already shed the tiny shorts and underwear, which were heaped near the dresser. “I, uh, fell.”

Dean choked back the laughter that wanted to bubble up, but the smile still appeared, as he hurried over to help untangle the shirt and assist the now 8 or 9 year old boy out of the really tight shirt. After a moment more of struggling and some grunting from Sam, he had to resort to pulling out his pocketknife to slice it off, as the neck wouldn’t go over his head no matter what they tried.

“Yep, this is about when that giant head of yours made Dad start to grumble about you being smarter than you own good,” Dean chuckled. He snorted when his brother tried to use his now longer, but not yet long enough arms to cover his nakedness and the next level bitchface his brother hit him full force. He would have made another comment, but it was then he noticed the tiny dribble of red at his hairline to the left of his forehead. Reaching out gently, he felt the wetness and a slight bump. Sam flinched away. “That happen when you fell?” Sam nodded. 

Cas, remaining quiet, had gathered up what appeared to be the appropriately sized clothes from their previous purchases and was already heading to their side. Sam blushed, knowing that his brother and the angel were both seeing him naked. He reached up for the clothes and pulled them on quickly, still seated on the floor. Before Dean would let him stand up, he moved back, allowing Cas to take his spot and heal the head bump. Sam, still blushing furiously, smiled at Cas in gratitude, the blue-eyed angel smiling back.

“We heard the thuds, but what was the humming about?” Dean asked, reaching down to help Sammy off the floor. The shaggy hair now reached the bottom of Dean’s chest. He ran his hand through Sam’s hair in concern, looking for any other changes or problems. Sam batted his hands away irritably. ‘Yep’, Dean thought wryly, ‘this is about the age he started wanting to be treated less like a kid.’

“I’m okay. Cas healed it already,” he muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on the socks, already wearing the t-shirt, underwear and jeans. His hair at this age was finally long enough he could push it behind his ears. It wasn’t until he hit age 10 that Dad had made him cut it to above his ears. “I think it was the spell effect. I was laying on the bed, reading up on ancient magic practices among slave owners in the years around the Mt. Vesuvius eruption, when I heard that hum building and I felt all tingly.” Dean smirked and Sam blushed. “Not that, Dean.” When Dean shrugged, he cleared his throat and continued. 

“It was less ‘magic fingers’ and more ‘Dad’s training taser’.” This time, Dean winced in sympathy. When Cas threw him a quizzical look, Dean blushed a little himself, coughed, then gestured that he’d tell him later. “It hurt, but not that badly. Then it just felt like that time we got all that slime stuff and then it started drying.” He shivered himself.

“Like your skin was stretching out?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I realized what was happening, so I jumped up to get the clothes off before they became a problem. Didn’t quite make it, as you saw.” He shrugged again, embarrassed a little. “Cas?” He cast a hurried glance at Dean before Cas smiled.

“As we discussed, I did a full ‘systems check’,” Cas quoted with his hands, “while I was healing the head wound and everything is okay. There are no issues beyond the demon blood.” Sam sighed in relief.

“The demon blood is still there?” Dean asked, coming to sit next to Sam on the bed, wrapping a protective arm around the small shoulders. Sam huffed, but still leaned into the hug. “I thought that was the whole point of that de-aging spell taking him back to babyhood.”

“It was Dean, but the other spell that pushes me forward by four years every few weeks,” Sam said, hand playing with the hem of Dean’s shirt as he thought, “can’t do it from scratch. The first spell specified that I keep my adult brain, remember? The second spell would have been working with a clean slate. Thus why it took two weeks for every four years.”

“Time to train the kid to walk, talk, potty in a hole,” Dean mused. Sam smiled up at him in pride.

“Uh, huh. And since they were slaves, they didn’t need to learn history or to read or right. Just needed to know how to do what they were told. So Cas and I figured from the first time you guys did it, that it didn’t work from the clean slate, but took what it had, which for me…” He gestured to his head.

“Since you had the adult brain, it would just rebuild you around that.” Dean had a thoughtful expression, but still didn’t look pleased. “And just when did you two have this long, detailed conversation? I was with you guys like all the time over the last few weeks.” Sam shrugged, glancing at Cas.

“While you were sleeping, Sam and I would spend any time he was awake talking,” Cas’s gravelly voice said. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed further.

“But you weren’t sleeping when I was?” He looked down at Sam, who shrugged again.

“Still have the nightmares,” came the nonchalant reply. “And it was best to let you sleep. You did so much taking care of me the first time around, that even though I’m in a smaller body, I figured I’d let you off the hook for the bedtime snuggles.” Dean glared at him, then rolled his eyes.

“Sammy,” he sighed. “You weren’t a burden then and you’re not a burden now. I’m not saying you can’t talk to Cas all you want, but with what we’ve seen, what we’ve been through, I’m kind of enjoying the trip down memory lane. And if you want, I’m up for bedtime snuggles.” Sam smiled up at him, Dean returning that smile and squeezing his little brother against him again, laying his chin on the top of his head. “And when we get you back to sasquatch size, we’ll revisit this topic. Not sure how both of our overgrown asses and your sleep sprawl will keep the snuggles alive.” Now Sam rolled his eyes, releasing Dean’s shirt and punching him lightly in the ribs.

Dean snorted laughter, pushing the boy to standing. Cas smiled at them. 

“Anybody hungry? I got that lasagna I can reheat.” Sam and Cas laughed.

“Always with the food,” Sam chuckled. Dean slung his arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and they headed down the hallway, Cas trailing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, Chadwick Boseman died, and I wept for the better part of the day. 2020 has been rough for everyone, but that, for some reason, was the straw that broke me for the day, at least. Let's all learn to be a little kind and undertanding.


	8. Never enough, Always too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Testing the antidote, My Little Pony, and losing to win.

The day had finally arrived for the application of the Mithridate antidote, then the testing. From the recipe, it had to be taken in specific dosages, across different timeframes. After some discussion, it was decided that Dean would sit in the chair with Sammy on his lap so that if there was a bad reaction, such as seizures, or falling unconscious, big brother would be there to catch him and hold him. Sammy had reviewed the recipe many times, conferring with Cas on all the ingredients, as well as the steps for final creation, all of them nervous and anxious. Cas stood within arm’s reach of the brothers at the ready.

Sam picked up the first dosage, a thimble sized portion, took a deep breath, and with a final look at his brother and his friend, he tipped it back into his mouth. It was incredibly bitter, but somehow bland at the same time. It was almost as though the bitter was more a reaction of his tongue rather than a flavor. He made what their dad had always laughingly called a ‘lemon-sucking’ face as he swallowed. The bitterness only got stronger as it went down his throat, causing him to cough and hack. Dean was instantly patting his back and offering him a cup of water as a chaser, his face concerned, searching the boy for anything to indicate intervention was needed.

Sam held up a hand as he gulped the water, shaking his head violently as the bitterness caused his body to shudder. Before putting the cup down on the table, he stuck his tongue out and made a noise of disgust. 

“Sammy? You okay? What’s going on, little brother?” Dean’s solicitousness would have been amusing if Sam himself weren’t concerned about the effects. He coughed once, then paused to take stock of what he felt.

“Um, it’s really, really bitter,” he rasped, causing Dean to cautiously laugh. “I could taste it all the way down. Ugh!” He shuddered once more, then shrugged. “I don’t really feel any different. I mean, I need to brush my teeth and tongue to get the taste out, but I don’t feel anything.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he assessed him.

“Cas?” The blue-eyed angel leaned forward, placing his hand on Sam’s forehead. After a few seconds of contemplation, he tilted his head and frowned. “What’s with the frowny face, Cas?”

“There is no immediate danger,” he began slowly, still looking off into the middle distance as he assessed. “There has been some modification at the cellular level.” Both Dean and Sam gaped up at him.

“But that’s bad, right?” Dean demanded, his arms going around the boy in a protective gesture. “I mean, is it going to mutate him?”

“Dean,” Sam admonished him with a small glare, but his brother could tell he wasn’t disagreeing completely. 

“No. No mutation,” Cas continued. “Not like you’re imagining. No horns or a tail. But it’s added a layer around each of his cells. Like a filter.” He pulled back, leaned down and looked deeply into Sam’s multicolored eyes. “Do you feel stronger, Sam?” The boy gulped, shrugging.

“Not really,” he replied, leaning into Dean’s embrace. “I guess we’ll find out when we do the first test.” His brother was immediately waving one hand as he shook his head. 

“Nope, uh, uh. We don’t even know what this did to you, Sammy. There’s no way I’m going to let you go drink poison too.” Sam sighed, rolling his head back so he could look up at his brother upside down. 

“Dean,” he nearly whined. “We already talked about this. Next dose is in 24 hours. We need to test a very weak poison before then so we know if it’s effective at all.”

“Sammy, come on,” Dean did whine. He tilted his own head down to nuzzle into his brother’s hair. “I know you’re the one going through it, but this is hard to just sit by and watch you drink poison on purpose.” Sam wiggled until he could turn and wrap his arms around his big brother’s neck, laying his head on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sniffled, causing the older hunter to move both hands to cradle him closer. “I always mess up. I’m sorry.” 

“It was an accident, Sam,” Cas said quickly before Dean could force his throat to work around the lump that had appeared. They shared a worried but supportive glance with each other. “You did what you could to save us, Sam. We know it wasn’t you being selfish. Dean is…Dean and I are just worried about you.” Sam sniffled again and turned his head to reveal one watery eye looking up at them.

“I really didn’t do it on purpose,” his tiny voice wavered. Dean leaned back and smirked down at him, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You mean, my big ‘little’ brother didn’t actually plan out this elaborate mess just to get to wear diapers again?” Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled a little. “Huh, and here I thought it was a ploy for snuggle time. Guess I was wrong and you don’t want it.” He started to pull his arms away, but Sam gripped him tighter. 

“Dean,” the little boy did whine. He curled loosened his grip and curled into his brother’s chest, poking him hard in the ribs, making Dean laugh louder, Cas smiling more easily.

“Look, little big man,” the older hunter said, carding his hand through the shaggy chestnut hair. “We know you didn’t do this on purpose and I’m not blaming you. Just asking you to give me a minute to adjust to each step. You may be prepared to dive in, but I can’t take the back-to-back. Just give me maybe an hour or two. Let this victory settle first.” His green eyes pleaded with his brother gently. Sam sighed and nodded, snuggling closer. Dean kissed the top of his head, looking to Castiel for confirmation of the decision. The angel merely nodded and settled into the nearest chair. 

“Wanna watch some My Little Pony?” Dean asked after a moment of silence, bursting into laughter when the expected bitchface shot up at him.

“Dean, that’s YOUR show, not mine.” Sam snarked, but then his face softened and he smiled. “But I’ll sit by you while you watch some if you want. I can get some reading in while you watch the cartoon ponies.”

“They have a dragon, Sammy.” Dean laughed, standing with Sam in his arms. When his little brother pointed at a book that he wanted, the old brother dutifully bent over, getting Sam within reach so he could grab it. 

Dean had a firm hold on little Sammy but Cas was nearby, ready to catch him if needed. But it seemed the hunter was back in ‘take care of Sammy’ mode. He took the book from his hands and tossed it to Cas, who caught it, confusion on his face, until he saw Dean lift Sam and toss him into the air, making him gasp, then squeal and giggle. The bright smile on both of their faces warmed the angel. Dean easily caught the boy and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before marching out of the room towards his own room, where his laptop, complete with Netflix, lay on his bed. Cas followed after.

******

Dean had kept one eye on the show, his not-so secret pleasure, and the other on the shaggy-haired boy next to him. Sam had the book open on his lap, looking all the more tiny with the large book covering his lap and most of his legs, his small feet sticking out from under the top edge of the cover. Cas sat stoically on the other side of Sam but his entire attention was on the colorful antics of the cartoon horses. Dean smiled to himself when he saw Sam yawn broadly once, then shake himself. He figured if he said nothing, Sammy would drift off leaning against him and maybe get some decent sleep. Now knowing that the nightmares were still plaguing him, he remembered that having someone else touching him while he slept sometimes held them at bay.

“Why does Heaven look like a city with a palace?” Cas asked, keeping his voice low. Dean turned confused eyes towards his angel friend, then glanced back at the laptop, where Princess Celestia was holding court with her sisters. He could see the allegory of Heaven and the angels. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sam perk up, glancing at the laptop screen as well, then smiling to himself and going back to reading. Sam was leaving that discussion to Dean to handle, the little brat.

“One, it’s a kid’s show and not really Heaven,” Dean said, also keeping his voice low. “Two, it’s kind of what most Christians believe Heaven is like. A beautiful city with a palace surrounded by clouds.” Cas’ face scrunched even more.

“But that’s not what Heaven looks like at all,” he said. Sam snickered, lowering his head further into his book. Dean sighed. 

“Yeah, we know, but it’s just one of those stories, a…uh,” he looked helplessly down at Sam, who glanced between them before ducking his head again.

“Metaphor,” the tiny voice snorted.

“Yeah, metaphor.” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair, smiling as the small hand batted him away. Cas made a confused sound.

“A figure of speech that describes something abstract, like trying to explain Heaven to children,” Sam said, with a sigh and a head turn to smile up at Cas.

“Ah,” the angel said, his eyes going back to the television screen. “So the city is where all the souls individuals heavens are and the palace is where the angels and God oversee and maintain their happiness and peace.” 

“Exactly,” Sam smiled, patting the angel’s arm.

“Thank you, Sam.” And with that, he settled back again, once again engrossed in the cartoon. The little boy nodded, yawned, then leaned his head into his brother’s side. Dean let his arm drift around his shoulders and pulled him gently closer. It was still amazing to him that hearing his big-brained brother coming from little Sammy’s body wasn’t really all that strange. Sammy had always been very smart and curious, always ready and willing to learn. His incessant questioning had driven Dean and their dad nuts some days, but Dean had been proud that his little brother was so smart. 

A short time later, he blinked, realizing he had drifted off in his thoughts and then literally dozed off. It couldn’t have been long as he recognized the episode currently playing and it was only two after the one they had just been on. Cas was still intently watching but Sammy was sound asleep curled against Dean’s side. Cas had, apparently, removed the book from his lap and pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up over his and Dean’s laps. Cas noticed Dean was awake and glanced over at him, nodded, then went back to the show. 

Dean, feeling a warmth he hadn’t realized he had been missing, breathed in deeply, taking in his small family. His family. For the moment, there was peace and rest. He had his little little brother and his angel best friend. The thoughts of their current dilemma wanted to creep into his thoughts but he pushed them away, concentrating for the moment on the absolute comfort of family.

*****

“How can you say that?!”

Dean picked up speed when he heard Sammy’s voice getting louder, and angrier. When he’d left the two of them for a restroom break, they had been discussing ways to find out the keyword that would disable the aging spell. The early tests of mild poisons had shown to be a resounding success, the mithridate seeming to be legitimate. Several doses had been taken and both Sam and Cas were reasonably sure that once he returned to his right age, the poisons he had ingested during the incident would no longer be a problem. 

“Sam, I cannot promise,” Cas replied in his gravelly voice. As Dean rounded the corner into the library, he saw Sam standing on the table with Cas standing next to it, Sam’s arms around his shoulders and Cas gently holding the boy. 

“Uh, what’s up?” He asked, slowing down as he got closer. The small, shaggy head came up and he could see the distress in those everchanging eyes. They were watery but no tears had slipped free yet. Sammy shook his head and buried his face again into the collar of the angel’s trenchcoat. Cas turned his head slightly as Dean came alongside them. His own face had a sad expression. “Sammy? Cas?” 

Sammy sniffled, then ran his sleeve across his nose before he looked up fully. He glanced at Dean, then at Cas, who shrugged at him, not releasing him yet. The little boy made a sound like a sob, again without tears, but then took in a deep breath and nodded once. 

“Somebody gonna clue me in?” Sam and Cas shared a silent communication before the blue-eyed man’s arms shifted back, allowing Sam to sit on the edge of the table, then drop onto the floor, with Cas ready to grab him if he landed awkwardly. Sam leaned into Dean and hugged his hip, his brother’s hands coming up to run through his hair. Dean’s eyes looked up at Cas questioningly. 

“I believe I have a way to get the keyword,” Cas said after a moment. Dean blinked and smiled.

“That’s awesome,” he started, before his brain kicked in and he realized the emotions of the other two weren’t excited and happy. “But, and let me guess, there’s a catch?” He sighed just as Cas sat down heavily and nearly whispered ‘Dean’. 

Dean heaved a sigh, bending down to lift up his little brother, before he too dropped heavily into a chair. Cas ran a hand over his own face.

“There is a way for me to travel back to the time period that the spell was in high use, but it requires the touch of a soul…,” he trailed off, a glance at Sam. “I will be able to get the keyword, but I might not have the ability to return. I would make sure to leave the keyword somewhere you and Sam could find it, but I would have to relive all that time again, and surely my brothers would notice that I was out of my time and interrogate me.” Dean’s eyes widened. 

“And that knowledge could change our past,” Sam mumbled against his shirt. “He says that if he cannot find a way back before he gets caught by his brothers, he’ll end himself to prevent that.” Dean gasped, his mouth open. 

“Sam, you and your brother are far more important to the world than I am,” Cas said softly, leaning forward to look into Sam’s eyes. Sam leaned towards him and yelled. 

“NO!!!!!!!” He shook his fists and head. “If you hadn’t been here, Dean would still be in Hell, I’d probably be Lucifer’s meatsuit, and the world would be destroyed. You’re just as, if not MORE important than we are. You are part of our family and I won’t let you do it!” He tried to leap from Dean’s lap, but his brother held him firmly. 

“Sammy,” Dean said softly, holding him to get him to calm down. 

“NOOOOO!!!!!” he wailed. “I can’t leave Dean alone. If you fail and we both die, he’s alone. He doesn’t deserve that!” He was shaking in anger and sadness now, clutching at Dean frantically, one hand also gripping the edge of Cas’s trenchcoat. Cas and Dean shared a shocked look above his thrashing body. He continued to wail until he dissolved into weak sobs, still gripping both of them, holding them in an emotion-filled huddle. Finally, his grip weakened enough that Cas was able to slip his coat free and lean back. Dean’s eyes were also watery, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking yet. 

“Sam,” Cas said slowly. “It cannot be prevented.” Dean and Sam looked up in confusion at the tone the angel used, one of wonder and resignation. They both caught where his blue eyes were focused, along the sigils around the top of the library, that ran all around the ceiling of the top floor of the bunker. Dean wasn’t sure what he was seeing, until Sam gasped and turned a stunned face to Cas. 

“That’s why it never made sense,” Sam mumbled. Cas nodded slowly.

“What?” Dean asked after a moment. 

“Those three sigils,” Cas nodded to where he was looking, “Are actually a word. Each on it’s own is a protection ward, but in that combination, they are a word. One that I cannot be said out loud until Sam is back his right age.” The realization dawned in Dean’s mind and he whirled to face his friend. 

“So, you…,” he said slowly.

“Yes, I am going back to get thee word and will somehow get the Men of Letters to include it in the sigils worked into the bunker. This is proof that I cannot not do this. If I do not, the sigils fade, our memories of it will be erased and it will affect the safety and warding of the bunker.” Sam’s shoulders dropped in defeat. 

“I hate this,” he muttered. Dean pulled him close, lifting one hand to wipe away the stray tear that had slipped free. 

“Me too, little brother. Me too.” 

It took a few minutes to get everyone calmed and settled, then, upon Dean’s insistence, Cas touched his soul and vanished. Sam cried again, holding onto Dean as his older brother recovered from the pain and trauma of having his soul touched. Once the older hunter was physically able, he and Sam headed for his room, where they crawled into the bed together and snuggled in sadness. Sam hated that he had little control of his emotions in this small body or he would have done all he could to be Dean’s strength as his friend was gone once again. He did his best, letting his big brother take all the comfort he could just from the brotherly hold they shared. 


	9. The Beginning of Castiel's Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas returns to Pompeii before the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius to confirm the word in the sigils. Then seeks help to find his way home in the only being he hopes he can trust.

Cas’ first impression of Pompeii was nostalgia. While he had not personally overseen this area of the world in this era, he remembered the Roman empire. This had been one of the better kept areas. As it was so close to the Bay of Naples and had connections to the touristy coastal cities, as well as the more internal working cities, there had been a lot of commercial traffic where merchants grew rich. Currently, the streets of paving stones were bustling with nobles, merchants, and slaves. It was a sea of finery and jewelry among the nobles, lesser quality but still high quality wear for the merchants, and clean, unstained clothing for the slaves. 

Cas had seen the rise and fall of master and slave empires. Some still existed in the modern world, but Heaven did not interfere, and Hell figured they would get their due from the bad slave owners anyway, so there was no need to corrupt or interfere. It must have been near the noon break for all as he could see a lot of the foot traffic was heading for the large amphitheater he could see towards the end of the road he was currently on. There was a great deal of cheering and laughter going on so the gladiators must have been warming up by showing off to the crowd, their owners taunting the crowd and the other slave gladiators. Cas hadn’t always felt the way he did now about owning slaves and forcing some to become gladiators and fight, but he could see the similarity to what he and Heaven had done to Sam and Dean, forcing them to play the parts they were born to and then making them battle.

With a quick head shake to remind himself he had a purpose here and now, he began to walk through the crowds, keeping himself invisible for now as he knew his modern garb would cause a commotion he did not have time for. It was not easy weaving through the crowd while looking for the indication of a slave trader stall in the marketplace as it was crowded enough that people kept bumping into him. At the same time, it was so crowded that it was never noticed that they had bumped into an empty space. 

He stopped in the marketplace center and looked around, finally catching the familiar slave trader marking off to the far right. With a sigh, he started that way. From memory, he was aware that deodorant had not yet been invented, but secretly, he was lamenting the fact that he’d not appeared closer to the time when everyone made their ways to the bath houses for a steam shower. The press of warm bodies and body odor was enough that he used his grace to turn off his sense of smell. The sky was clear, the sun shining down, and most of the inhabitants were smiling or radiating content. He was glad he had timed his arrival to about a week before Mt. Vesuvius erupted. 

“You do not belong here,” came a voice from his right, making him turn in that direction. Standing still in the moving sea of people was Esbel. Cas remembered her as the angel who had died during the pre-Apocalypse battle. The human she was currently wearing was a very well put together woman, dressed as possibly the wife of a merchant. The same as no one was ‘seeing’ him, it appeared she was also ‘unseen’ by those who passed through the marketplace. With a sigh, he left the flow and headed over to her. 

“Esbel,” he said once he was close enough. She tilted her head and gave a half smile. 

“Castiel, certainly you should be commanding the forces over the New World?” Her eyes questioned him even as she looked deeper. “You are not of this time.” It was a statement.

“Yes, I am not here to change anything,” he began, holding up a hand. “I need a piece of information that was lost to time.” When she merely nodded, he felt some tension release. “You are aware of the slave traders using magic to age the slave children to reduce the time they would be useful or of age for sale?”

“Yes, it is one practice that I look forward to ending after the eruption.” 

“The magic has found its way to the future by accident, but the word to deactivate it was lost. Someone very important to me, to, to the world is currently under its affects.” He glanced around, giving her a moment to absorb what he said. His eyes soon returned to her steady gaze. 

“And you are under orders to get this word?”

“Yes.” Cas didn’t even flinch at his own lie. He had known Esbel to be very loyal to Heaven and if he had told the truth, she would have reported him and all fate would be changed as he and his now version would be killed immediately to stop him from helping the Winchesters stopping the Apocalypse. 

“I do not know the word, but I can take you to the local slave market area so you may retrieve it from one of the trader’s minds.” She nodded curtly and disappeared in a flutter of wings. Cas inwardly sighed in relief. Perhaps this would be much easier than anticipated. But as Dean had once told him, and he had had a hard time understanding until not long ago, ‘do not count your chickens before they are born.’ He reached out to feel her signature grace where she had stopped and flew quickly to her side. 

While the general marketplace was clean and airy, the slave market area was not as clean, nor as airy. It still was not as filthy as many he had visited in his first time on Earth, but there was a definite air of domination and subservience in this location. The slave traders could easily be distinguished as they were dressed much nicer and were generally rotund, whereas the slaves wore simple clothes and were slender and rangy. The men and women were kept in separate areas, all of them wearing iron shackles chained to other chains that lined the stalls. This gave them some range of movement, without letting them stray too far. The children were with the women, being cared for and cooed over. Those who were of ‘age’ had already been separated between their gendered areas. 

Castiel longed to smite all the traders and free all of these people, but it would change the fate of the world and himself in ways he could not predict. There were too many lives, too many futures woven together in his own past to dare to tempt the Fates to target him or the Winchesters again. 

Esbel was standing conversing with one of the traders and a flicker of her eyes in Cas’s direction gave him all the notice he needed. Still ‘unseen’, he slipped behind the trader and laid his hand against the amazingly not greasy hair. Closing his eyes, he waited for Esbel to direct the conversation so the word would surface. 

“So, if I were to need a specific child sooner, you could use the spell to increase her age to my requirements?” Esbel sounded steady but Cas could feel that her grace shuddered at even talking to this man. 

“Within four years of that age, yes, my lady,” the man smiled broadly. The thoughts currently swimming on the surface were more about the money he could make from a special request like this. Cas shook his head to let her know it wasn’t there yet. 

“How could you possibly be that accurate? I mean, is the spell that specific?” The trader licked his lips, tenting his fingers over his belly.

“Well, my lady,” he oozed in a way he thought was charming, “Depending on the age it begins, it ages four years for every fortnight. Then I simply say the word-“ And it surfaced. Cas blanked out on all other conversation, committing the word to memory. It matched what was spelled out in the sigils, so he had been proven correct. He smiled at Esbel and nodded, flying off to find someone who could help him hide from Heaven until time came for the Men Of Letters to begin to form. There were still many, many, many years to go until then and he and the word must remain hidden until then.

*****

Locating worshipers of the Norse pantheon were not hard to find. Getting them to help him summon Loki was a bit tougher. Worshippers of the Norse pantheon typically followed Odin. It was considered insane to summon Loki as he was more likely to wreak havoc in your name than to offer any assistance. Cas spent several days trying to convince any of them to help him before one young man finally agreed, upon the stipulation that he be allowed to leave the area before Cas cast the final rune in the summoning. Cas, of course, agreed, and now it was just the matter of figuring out how to get his wayward brother to listen to him, as well as help him hide until time abided. 

“Well, well, well,” the familiar voice chided within seconds of the final rune casting. “Who dares summon me?” 

Cas smiled sadly. 

“Hello, brother,” he sighed. “I am happy to see you again.” Loki laughed uproariously, holding his stomach for dramatic effect, tossing his golden curls back. 

“Brother? Nay, my friend, you are no brother mine. Thor pains me enough.” Cas nodded.

“Gabriel, I need your help.” At the name, ‘Loki’ paused, then squinted his eyes and really looked at Cas. 

“You’re not from around here,” he said slowly, the smile fading. The dark-haired angel shook his head.

“I need help hiding from Heaven until the right time and as you have been so successful at it, I came to you for assistance.”

“I guess I wasn’t so damn successful if you know who I am,” the Norse god muttered, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing over his lower face. “So how long do you need to hide? And how far can I go to make it happen?” He smirked as Cas’ eyebrow quirked up.

“You don’t want to know the future? Your own fate?” Loki slapped his hand out dismissively.

“Don’t want to know any of it. I know what Dad said is supposed to happen and personally, I’ve seen so many different timelines. Plus, Dad has the whole thing where we’re not allowed to go back and change the future, so I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to say it if you wanted to.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but Cas could tell he was nervous. 

“Angels cannot go to the future,” he frowned. Gabriel shrugged with a little smirk.

“I cheated a little. Pagan magic,” he said as he wiggled his fingers. “But nothing is set in stone until it happens, so I gave up on trying to do that.”

“You could read my memories,” Cas offered. Gabriel turned to pace, glancing back at him time and again. When he stopped, he shrugged again. 

“Nah, same kind of restriction. Probably wouldn’t see anything and then I’d end up revealing myself and I am so not ready to deal with big brother issues.” They simply stared at each other for a moment. “So, thoughts about what you’re willing to put up for as long as you need to remain hidden?” Cas took a deep breath, thought about the two men, one younger than he should be, waiting for him in the bunker in the future and let it all out, all while rolling his eyes at his trickster brother. 

“Do your worst.” As soon as Cas uttered the words, he knew he should have phrased it better. Gabriel cackled at him, threw an arm around his shoulder, then began leading Cas away from the front of the Norse temple. 

“How do you feel about women, Castiel? Or more to the point, about being a woman?”


	10. Did You Miss Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas returns with a few surprises

“Sam? Sammy…Sam!”

Sam flung himself into a sitting position from where he apparently had fallen to the floor. He blinked up into Dean’s concerned eyes as they roamed all over him, making sure his baby brother was okay. 

“You with me, kiddo?” Dean’s gruff voice matched the grip he had on Sam’s biceps. Sam glanced in confusion down at the hands on his arms, then back up at Dean.

“Why am I on the floor, Dean?” When his older brother rolled his eyes with a sigh and pulled him into a hug, Sam realized he no longer felt so tiny compared to Dean. “Oh wow, I grew again?”

“Never let it be said that you’re not smart, little brother,” Dean snarked once Sam was sitting more comfortably on the leather chair in the library where he’d fallen asleep earlier. “Yeah, you look like you’re what…12 now?” The green-eyed hunter now crouched next to the chair, one hand on a chair arm, one hand on Sam’s shoulder, making sure he was steady. 

“Guess it happened while I was asleep,” the younger brother said sheepishly, tugging uselessly at the hem of his shirt that was now a little too small. “Why didn’t I wake up for it?”

“Don’t know, college boy,” his brother smirked, ruffling Sam’s hair as he stood up. “Could be all the staying up extra late to research how to help Cas rather than getting the sleep little ragamuffins like you need. You’re not 19 anymore, Sam.” Sam gave him a bitchface as he stood up to head to his room to change clothes but couldn’t resist tossing a comment back over his shoulder.

“No, but I will be in a month or so.” He didn’t turn around to look, smiling to himself as he turned into the hallway. Dean had paused in the doorway, smiling to himself as well, shaking his head. 

He waited until he heard Sam’s bedroom door close before he returned to the kitchen where he had been prepping meals for the week, and had just begun cutting up vegetables for Sam’s salad lunch. If he had been cooking something, it would have burnt by now because as soon as he’d heard that familiar hum, he’d dropped everything, racing into the library where he knew he’d left his brother earlier. He’d been in time to see the young man seize up, then slide out of the chair, the book that had been on his lap slipping off then skittering across the floor when Sammy had kicked it accidentally during his flailing. The sight of watching the little boy stretch in all directions into the pre-teen Dean remembered was bad enough, but knowing that taser sensation he had to go through each growth spurt made him cringe in sympathy. 

The last of the salad was unceremoniously dumped into the bowl just as his phone began to play “Hug You Squeeze You” by Stevie Ray Vaughn. He frowned down at his pocket as he wiped his hands before pulling it out to see who was calling. The caller ID said ‘Garth’. There was a faint laugh from down the hallway, which made him roll his eyes as he realized Sam had changed his ringtones the other day when he’d asked to test something on Dean’s phone. He really should have known. 

“Hey, Garth,” he said as he answered it, throwing a dirty look at the kitchen doorway where Sam now stood in better fitting clothes and laughing quietly. “What’s up in the land of nerds?”

“Heya, Dean,” replied the lanky hunter with some noticeable hesitation. “It’s good. Um, yeah, good. Listen, Kevin found something odd on the tablet.” Dean grunted.

“Odd, odd how? Odd like it’s only readable by a prophet who can translate it into another dead language that then still has to be translated to English? That kind of odd?” Sam’s eyebrows went up and he came closer to try to listen in. Dean put the phone on speakerphone. 

“No, more like ‘it just appeared even though it wasn’t there a few minutes ago’ odd. I’d almost not believe what he says it is, but I looked myself. It almost looks like he carved it himself while I wasn’t looking. And the message? Freaking weird, dude.” Garth’s voice ended on a whisper. Both Dean and Sam shared a confused a look.

“Well, call me curious,” the older brother replied. “What is the message?” There was a mumbled conversation on the other end, with Kevin’s voice getting fast and high, but neither brother could make out what they were saying to each other. “Garth?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” the hunter came back on the line. “Kev, man, seriously, I’ll handle this. You do your thing and I’ll deal with this. Yes, I checked all the warding and it’s all in place.” He huffed and the brothers could envision him rolling his eyes. “Okay, here’s the message. ‘The vessel of Lucifer must summon Loki.’ Weird, right?” Now the shared look was shock. 

“Yeah, hey, thanks, man,” Dean said hurriedly, and he hung up the phone. “What the hell, man?” He threw up his hands as Sam sat down hard at the table, running his hands through his hair. “Loki, er, um, Gabriel is dead, right? Lucifer killed him.” He stopped to stare at Sam, seeing the young man’s mind going at top speed.

“No, Dean,” the pre-teen voice squeaked. “Gabriel is dead but the real Loki isn’t. Remember Gabe said he made a deal with the real Loki to hide as him for a while. With Gabe dead, the real Loki had to step up.” Sam’s face went into frowning concentration. “But why do I have to do it?” Dean threw up his hands and sat down opposite his brother. 

“I don’t know. How did the message get there? Who put it there?” The older hunter put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. “Who the hell knows?”

“Do we, uh, do we do it?” Sam asked hesitantly. Dean blew out all the air from his lungs. Using the breath in as a pause in the conversation, he looked his little brother over. Sam’s clothes were a little larger than his body, but Dean had guessed pretty close to his memory of the boy. Maybe Sam had just taken up so much space in his head that he remembered him bigger. His hair was a little longer; still a far cry from adult Sam’s shoulder-length locks, but steadily growing. The dark circles under his eyes looked really out of the place on the boy. They were definitely more part of the adult his brother had become. Dean shook his head. 

“I don’t know. It could be a trick, or it could be Cas trying to reach out to us from wherever the Hell he ended up.” Dean’s shoulders slumped. “But that could just be wishful thinking.” He dropped his head, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck to pull the stress down. It was Sam’s soft laugh that made him look up. Those hazel eyes were sparkling and he was openly smiling. “What?”

“Dean, that’s exactly what it is,” Sam laughed. He stood up and ran out of the room towards the library. Rolling his eyes again, Dean launched after him.

“Sam….” 

*****

“Are you sure this isn’t going to bring the Norse gods down on us too? I mean, Odin and Baldur died in that hotel too, you know?” Dean had his arms crossed and was nervously rubbing his mouth again and again as he watched his little brother finish the summoning circle. Sam’s pre-teen shoulders just shrugged.

“As far as I have been able to uncover in the Men of Letters research,” he replied, crouching down to touch up one line of the sigil, “only the one summoned should appear and if the real Loki appears, I included something that will keep him enclosed in the circle. It should also keep him from being able to figure out where he was summoned to. And all it takes is adding this herb to the summoning bowl to banish him away. Believe me, I’m nervous about all this being a trap too.” The pre-teen, still barely reaching Dean mid-chest, stood back up, tilting his head to critically assess the sigil. He stepped back, dropping the paintbrush onto the rickety wooden table they had brought along. Dean’s hand came up to gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Oh, I trust you know what you’re doing, little brother. I just don’t know what to expect if it’s the real Loki and I’m iffy on trusting Gabriel if it’s not.” Sam turned a sad smile up to his brother.

“Yeah, but he did die for us.” Dean scoffed.

“If he didn’t fake it that time too.” He saw Sam’s smile fade as he turned his head away. His little brother heaved a sigh.

“He really died, Dean,” Sam nearly whispered. “That was one of the truths that Lucifer taunted me with. He wanted me to understand that I’d gotten Gabriel killed too because I didn’t say ‘yes’ sooner. He was angry that his own brother who had run away from their family had only returned to stand up to him. He felt him die. He made me feel what he felt.” Dean’s eyes tilted in sadness as he was accidentally ‘gifted’ with yet another torment Lucifer had put his brother through for stopping his plans to rule the earth. 

“Okay,” Dean coughed, clearing the lump that had appeared in his throat, “Just means we should be expecting the real Loki, not the archangel.” When he felt his little brother’s shoulders hitch in an obvious attempt to hold back tears, he slid his arm around Sam’s shoulder, across his chest and pulled him back against his own chest. He leaned down to lay his chin on the boy’s shaggy head and squeezed in a supportive hug, giving Sam comfort while letting him hide his emotions. After a moment, he kissed the top of Sam’s head and released him. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Sam nodded, stepping around the table to put the bowl of summoning materials in between himself and the circle. He glanced one last time at Dean, then began loudly reciting the Loki summoning ritual. The words were in modern English, but the wording was from an ancient ritual the Men of Letters had notated as ‘verified’. Neither of them knew if that meant that it had been tried and had worked, if they had seen it work, or if they had researched it to death until they could only verify that it had been used by Loki worshippers. Either way, the flowing rhythm had Dean alternately scoffing at the narcissistic praise and swallowing at the offers of honoring the demi-god with sacrifices. There was the flare of a matchhead and a theatrical puff of smoke. And suddenly, the circle was no longer empty.

Sam froze, tensing up, as did Dean. At first. Inside the circle was not Loki original or Loki lite, unless he was appearing as a rather tall, stately woman in a very ridiculous ‘Harley Quinn’ costume. She had long black hair pulled back in the ‘Harley’ pigtails and had very familiar startlingly blue eyes. Sam and Dean exchanged a confused look before turning back to the woman in the summoning circle.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the woman exclaimed once she got a good look at Dean. Her eyes were concentrated on Sam for a moment before she turned her attention fully back to Dean. “Let me out of this damn circle, Dean.” Her hands were planted on her hips as she glowered around her at the inside of the warehouse. 

“Um, Loki?” Dean asked after his mouth worked silently for a moment. The woman rolled her blue eyes and shook her head. 

“Gabriel?” Sam squeaked, causing both to look at him with a grin. 

“No, I am a ‘priestess of the temple of Loki’,” the woman said, using finger quotes. Both hunters gasped, then Dean snorted, then began laughing. The sound was light and airy and bubbled around them all as he bent double, holding his stomach. Sam shot Dean a scolding look, heading quickly to scrape the edge of the sigil to release the ‘priestess’. 

“Cas!” Sam said as he launched himself into the space to hug the woman around the waist. Her hands came up to wrap around his shoulders and she smiled broadly.

“Hello, Sam. I happy to see I made it back before you made it to your correct size.” They released each other and stepped closer to the still bent over Dean, one hand on his knee, the other wiping the tears from his eyes. “Gabriel insisted this was the best way to hide me from Heaven, as well as the real Loki.” 

Dean finally seemed to catch his breath and stood to pull Cas into a hug as well. He felt the soft curves of the female body press into his own male one and quickly released his friend and stepped back, clearing his throat. 

“Cas, man,” he chuckled, “we’re really happy you made it back. But I gotta know, why the Harley Quinn getup?” Cas rolled his/her eyes again, then jumped as though someone had slapped her ass. 

“That would be me,” a familiar voice laughed from behind Cas, causing them all to whirl to where Gabriel stood. “Well, hello, Winchesterino’s. Did ya miss me?” Gabriel smiled while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 


	11. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe hangs around while Sam gets closer to the right age.

From where he stood, he smirked at Dean, winked at Sam, then sent lecherous eyes at Cas. 

“Oh, Cassie, I’m going to miss my sexy little priestess,” he growled playfully. Cas growled back, not so playfully. 

“Gabriel, please be serious for once. I want my vessel back.” Cas glowered at the shorter archangel, looking for all the world like a pissed off college girl on a Halloween date, making Dean and Gabe to chuckle slightly. 

“Gabe,” Sam admonished the golden-haired man with a half-smile. The archangel blinked down at Sam, then whistled, walking around him slowly.

“Sammich?” he asked before glancing at the other two, then back down. “I wasn’t sure I believed Cassie’s story at first, but seeing you here, SHORTER than me, wow.” He leaned down to meet Sam’s eyes on his level and then smiled broadly, finding whatever he was finding in that hazel gaze. Standing back up to his normal height, only a few inches taller than the shrunken hunter, he ruffled the boy’s hair, making Sam snort and push his hand away. “Okay, let’s do this right.” He snapped and suddenly they were all standing in the bunker library. 

The others looked around in concern as Gabe snapped once again. On the map table now lay the familiar vessel who used to be Jimmy Novak. It was surrounded by a golden glow that faded within moments. 

“Nice secret clubhouse,” the archangel smiled as he looked around. “Cassie, get changed so we can sit down and get all this straightened out.” He plopped down into one of the library chairs, popping his feet up onto the table, snapping up a Dum-Dum sucker to pop into his mouth. Sam sat down hard in the chair next to him, finding a hard time taking his eyes off him. When Gabe winked at him, he couldn’t help but smile. 

Dean had followed Cas over to the vessel and watched as the angel essence streamed from the woman to the one of the table. As soon as Castiel was fully removed from the woman, Gabe snapped again and the body disappeared, Cas sitting up on the table. 

“Gabe?” Sam asked, concerned for the woman. 

“Relax, kiddo,” he said, looking around casually. “She really was a priestess and had volunteered to hold Cassie until we could make sure his trip through time had worked. She only wanted to be released to live her life after we no longer needed her. I just cleaned her up out of that ridiculous costume and plunked her with some of the original Loki’s followers. She’ll be fine.” 

“So the costume was fine for Cas, but not for her?” Dean rumbled, helping Cas off the table. Gabe’s head was leaning back as he looked up at the sigil’s of warding around the bunker and he burst out a bubble of laughter. 

“But Cassie was adorable like that and the original Loki wouldn’t have paid her a second look in that getup.” Sam nodded thoughtfully.

“Hidden in plain sight,” he said with a smile. “If he didn’t look too closely, Cas was better hidden as an angel inside a pagan priestess.” Gabe clicked a finger gun at the boy.

“Bingo, bongo, boyo.” He sat up suddenly and leaned forward to look closer at Sam. “I honestly didn’t believe Cassie at first, but I gotta tell ya, you don’t anything by halves, do you baby Samoose?” Sam shrugged. Dean and Cas had made it back to them, standing to the side.

“How did you survive, Gabe?” Dean asked when he saw Sam wasn’t going to. “We saw you die in that hotel and Sam said Lucifer felt you die for real. Made him feel it and relive it.” Gabe cringed, frowning at the boy. Sam blushed and turned his head away. 

“Yeah, in that timeline, I did,” he said, leaning back again. “Cassie spilled the beans, against his better judgement, but it gave me enough heads up to create a simulacrum, not just an illusion. I infused quite a bit of my real grace into it so when he felt my grace burst and fade, it appeared real. It’s why it took so long for me to get that damn note added to the tablet that prophet kid is working on. Only archangels can read them or translate them other than prophets and before you ask, no, not going to help with that. I’ve done my job, survived being murdered by my insane brother, saved my other brother by hiding him in my priestess, and now, once I know baby Samoose here is back to himself, I’m off to see if Heaven can stand the last Archangel offering a helping hand to get straightened out.” 

“So, you can change me back?” Sam asked eagerly. Gabe gave him a sad smile.

“Not with the two spells working simultaneously,” He said, reaching out to pat Sam’s knee. “But, I plan to be around until you get back to Samsquatch size to make sure the poison really doesn’t kill my favorite moose. Once we get you as close to your real age, I’ll reverse the first spell, make sure you’ll survive the poison, then we’ll use the keyword to stop the rapid aging. Until then, anyone want to show me to my room?” Dean and Cas immediately exchanged weary looks, but Sam immediately stood and grabbed the archangel’s hand, leading him away. 

“I have a feeling the next month is going to be anything except boring,” Cas said as they watched the current shortest members turn the corner into the hallway. Dean snorted.

“When has mine and Sam’s life ever been boring, Cas?” They smiled at each other, then headed to the kitchen. 

*****

Over the next month, life in the bunker had almost been domestic. Cas and Dean went on nearby hunts, leaving Sam with Gabe, often coming home to the kitchen full of pies, cakes, pastries, and healthier options, like homemade granola. Sam’s next growth spurt had happened while they were all playing cards, having set up wards in the area to keep Cas and Gabe from cheating. That had been why neither angel felt it coming on. They had all heard the hum, with Dean being the first to leap up and grab his brother out of the chair, laying him on the floor with his head in Dean’s lap. Cas had been concerned, but Gabe had been startled and fascinated. Sam’s reaction to the growth spell really hadn’t been like the ones the Roman slaves had experienced. His had, so far, been a bit more violent but the consensus had been that it was the two spells working in tandem, somewhat in opposition, that made Sam’s transitions much more dramatic and electric. 

This time, as Dean had actually been holding Sam as he seized and began another stretch as his body lurched from around age 12 to age 16, the older brother had felt the buzz in his little brother’s bones, but had refused to let him go. It was over quick and the archangel cursed mildly when the now teenaged Sam had been helped to his feet where he had now stood maybe an inch taller than Gabe. 

“Well, that didn’t last long,” Gabe snorted, checking Sam over and deeming him fit and healthy. Sam had immediately headed to his room to change into the next set of clothing as this spurt had been the one where the beginning of his height had finally begun showing. In the next spurt, he would be back to college age and the same height as Dean. The next one would be right before the apocalypse and he would be taller. The final one would put him back to his 6’5” and would be the final challenge to make sure the poison didn’t kill him. 

Over the past few weeks, all four had done more research to ascertain that the mithridate antidote was the correct method. Gabriel had also braved the room, cleaning up the poisonous mix. He had not been able to put a name to two of the bottles that had broken as the labels had long ago fallen off and his grace did not recognize the toxic mixtures. He had wondered at the thought of them being created by humans, or if they had been created by the supernatural and lost to time, locked in the bunker. The last thing he did in the room was to safely box the bell in a soundproof box that could only be opened by Winchester DNA. Sam had made a catalog entry for the bell and locked it away in the furthest room at the bottom of the bunker. 

More time passed, Gabriel becoming more and more antsy, ready to get back out and roaming the world. Dean had shared Netflix with the archangel and Sam cut him off from the bunker wifi after he discovered Gabriel was using his laptop to look up porn. The golden-haired angel had protested but abided by Dean’s rules that no one else was to be brought into the bunker, for Sam’s protection. 

The next spurt, Gabe felt it coming before the hum started and immediately wrapped himself around the confused teenage boy. Sam had blushed and begun to struggle to get free until the hum caught up with him and he seized. Gabe pulled what pains he could from the transition, calling for Cas to bring Dean back to the bunker from where they were out in the local city getting groceries. He had assured them Sam was fine, but they had hurriedly finished their shopping and rushed back anyway. 

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, coming into the kitchen where Gabe was just putting a salad and a glass of water in front of his brother. Sam, now 6’2” and back to wearing his every day clothes, had stood and given his brother a hug. For Dean, it was a throwback to the day he’d broken into Sam’s apartment and then later had to pull him out after the demon had taken Sam’s girlfriend and set the place on fire. 

They had discussed stopping the spell at that stage, but there was no guarantee that Gabriel would be around when the initial spell hit the limit and he reverted back to his right age. Two more spurts and they could put it the plan into place. Everyone grew more nervous, but Sam and Dean began to spend time hanging out like they had before Sam had started having his visions, feeling like real brothers before all the demon deals, blood drinking, apocalypse, etc happened. 

They took on small cases, and with the angel and archangel there with them, they were sure they came out better than they might have. But it was going to be short-lived as Gabe had already stated his intention of leaving once the youngest Winchester was back to his true self. 

“I really missed out on Soulless Sam?” Gabriel asked one night as they sat around told stories to each other to pass the time as another spurt was due soon. Gabe had been telling a story about meeting a pixie and Dean had launched into his telling of the leprechaun and the watchmaker without thinking. Dean shook his head violently.

“No, you really didn’t.” Sam ducked his head and Dean patted his back. “If you’d been around during that time, I’m pretty sure you’d have ditched us forever.” Gabe tilted his head in concern at Sam.

“That bad, huh?” he asked. Sam gave a self-conscious smile.

“Let’s just say that Soulless Sam wouldn’t have paused with ganking any of us if he’d thought it was a logical conclusion,” Dean said. “I’m really glad I got my brother back.” Gabe leaned back.

“Wow, I’m kind of glad I didn’t see that. Sam after Broward County was scary enough.” It was Dean’s turn to tilt a confused head between Sam and Gabe. 

“What do you mean? He was a little clingy afterwards, wouldn’t let me out of his sight for a while, but he didn’t scare me.” When Gabriel blinked in surprise, he caught a desperate look from Sam, who looked away quickly. “We, uh, never really talked about exactly what happened. What did I miss? What did you not tell me, Sammy?” 

Gabe waved a hand dismissively, feeling bad for spilling something Sam had apparently not wanted his brother to know. 

“It’s not like what you’re thinking,” Gabe laughed half-heartedly. “Your last death sort of made him snap. He wailed on my ass. I mean, I won, but it’s what let me know he wasn’t going to just give up on you, ever. So I let you guys out. Not that bad.” A side look at Sam saw him sigh gratefully. 

“Well,” Dean said finally, looking back and forth between his brother and the archangel. He knew there was more, but after all they’d been through, he was inclined to let it go for now. “We’re here now, so let’s enjoy frat boy Sam for now.” He handed a beer out to his brother with a forced smile. Sam nodded and returned the smile, taking a deep swig of the beer.

*****

The next spurt came and went as expected. What hadn’t expected was Sam falling ill. While Dean had paced the infirmary, Gabriel had searched the young man and questioned his brother and Sam’s brother about that timeframe. Turned out, his body was remembering drinking the demon blood. And while there was none in his system right now, it was as though he were stuck in the initial stages of detox for the next few weeks. 

The final spurt shot him past the age of the Cage and the broken mental wall. The full-sized sasquatch was no longer ill but he was once again hallucinating. It was decided to go ahead and cancel the rest of the first spell and deal with the poison rather than allow Lucifer to break him like he had the last time. 


	12. The Return of Sam Freaking Winchesters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he's back!

“Relax, Sam-a-lam,” Gabriel smiled as he stood on one side of the infirmary bed, one hand on Sam’s head. Dean stood on the opposite side, holding Sam’s hand. Cas stood down by his feet with the spell book in his hands. “I’ve got you and we’ll be here for you when you’re all grown up.” Sam smiled nervously, his eyes flickering to the empty corner where Lucifer was leaning against the wall, rolling his eyes. 

“Says the archangel who ran away so he didn’t have be a grown up,” Lucifer snarked. Sam blinked in fear. Gabriel, seeing inside Sam’s head, saw and heard the hallucination and let a small amount of grace wipe it away. 

“Cassie, let’s get this show on the road. I’m not liking spending time with my older brother.” This made Cas and Dean to look up and follow both Sam’s and Gabe’s gaze to the empty corner. 

“You can see him?!” Dean asked with a gasp. Gabe scowled but nodded. 

“They weren’t just hallucinations, Deano,” the archangel whispered. “Lucifer had tagged Sam’s soul and was using that link to torture him from his Cage. Thanks for saving him, Cas, from that bastard.” He glanced over to Cas, who only nodded. Dean looked down at his little brother with a new fury. “Let’s just get him past this and get him back to tall, plaid, and sassy.” 

“Okay, I’m starting now.” Cas began to intone the reversal, then lit the spell components. The body on the bed seized and shook. Dean had expected his brother to grip his hand tightly but when he looked down, Sam’s hands were splayed wide with the muscles and tendons standing out, rather than spasming into fists. Sam’s eyes were rolled back into his head as he arched off the bed. Gabriel closed his eyes and let his grace out just a little. 

“Easy there, Samoose,” he said softly, then the soft glow from his hand began to have an effect, easing the spasms and loosening the seizures. The tall man shuddered as his body returned to the final stage, looking once again like the brother Dean had left that morning a few months ago.

Just as Dean took a deep breath and began to smile, blood began to bubble behind his lips and leak from his eyelids. He panicked, darting looks between the two angels. 

“Gabe! Cas!” He yelled as Sam began convulsing. Gabe moved both hands over Sam, one over his head, the other over his chest. 

“The aging spell is interfering with the reversal of the de-aging spell,” Gabe mumbled. “Cassie, the word, quickly.” Cas mumbled and then gently pushed Dean aside and leaned down to Sam’s ear to whisper something that to Dean sounded almost like ‘flibberty gibbet’ but couldn’t have said either way. Sam immediately eased and Gabe’s glowing hands moved quickly, the glow growing to encompass more of the man on the bed. 

It seemed to take forever but it had only been a few minutes before the glow faded and Gabriel fell backwards into the nearest chair. Cas took over, his own grace not nearly as bright, but by the time he was done, Sam appeared to simply be asleep, no longer bleeding or convulsing. Dean pushed Cas back and grabbed his brother’s hand. 

“Sam?” When he hadn’t gotten a response, he looked between the two angels, who shared a look that he couldn’t interpret.

*****

“Dean?” the soft voice came from the doorway. The older hunter turned away from where he had been cleaning his coffee cup out in astonishment. There stood his baby brother, t-shirt and pajama pants wrinkled to hell and back. His long hair was messy and sleep mussed, eyes still blinking away the bleariness. Dean darted to his brother so quickly that he’d later been amazed to find the coffee cup still intact in the sink rather than bashed to bits. He grabbed Sam and hugged him fiercely. 

“Sammy, you’re awake.” His voice was nearly a whisper. It hadn’t been as bad as it had been when he’d been waiting for Sam to wake up after Death restored his soul, as Gabe and Cas had both told him Sam was healed and just sleeping off the effects of all the rapid changes, as well as the remnants of the extreme poisoning. Sam returned his hug.

Once Dean released him, he pointed him to sit at the table and went to make his brother a cup of much-needed coffee. Sam had accepted it with a tired smile, sipping it slowly. 

“Where are Gabe and Cas?” Sam asked after half of the cup was gone. Dean got himself a fresh cup and sat on the opposite side of the table, the smile unable to leave his lips. The older hunter waved a hand and opened his mouth to say something.

“Waiting for Sleeping Beauty to awaken,” Gabriel said as he appeared in the seat next to Sam, with a sugary, whipped something drink in his hand, whipped cream on his upper lip. Cas appeared standing behind Dean but quickly sitting down as well. “We were just hanging out, brother to brother, waiting to see if you needed a booster shot.” He smirked at Sam as he licked his top lip. 

Sam laughed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well, I have to thank all three of you,” Sam started. “I’m alive because of all of you.” He sipped his coffee and sighed. 

“Yeah, well, seems the world needs the Winchester brothers,” Gabe smirked. “And while only one is good, both is best.” Dean shot a smug look to Sam as he continued to sip his coffee. “Besides, how would it look if Cas and I let something like a stupid word stop Sam Freaking Winchester?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging with me and letting me get this story out of my head finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
